


collapsing everything he once knew

by Blepbean



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Bigotry, Canon Compliant, Dex was never racist to Nursey stop doing that shit, Drinking, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I htink, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, and he truly didn’t know some stuff, conversations about race and privellege and sexuality etc., dex needs like so many hugs, frenemies to lovers, he was just confused between the difference between class privellege and white privellege, idiots to lovers, internalised biphobia, most of the people under the Haus is at least q u e e r bc i say so
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 67,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27322954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blepbean/pseuds/Blepbean
Summary: Its Dex's senior year. He's stepping into the shadow of Bitty's leadership, pressure building onto him. This year will collapse everything he once knew about himself, wading through uncomfortable waters, balancing his schoolwork all while realising that he might not be as straight as he thinks he is.(UPDATES FREQUENTLY AND ERRATIC, WITH ATLEAST ONE CHAPTER EVERY WEEK)“--but I know you enough that you hate new things,” Nursey says. Dex has to stop himself from moving, they’re not close, how does Nursey know him so well like the back of his hand? “So if you need help, me and Chowder are here. Denice is here as well.”“Cool,” Dex manages to breathe out, not wanting to raise his voice any louder.“Cool."
Relationships: Derek "Nursey" Nurse/William "Dex" Poindexter, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 57





	1. components of calamity

**Author's Note:**

> READ BEFORE CONTINUING  
> 1\. so we know that canon nurseydex is just two dumb college boys who don't communicate properly, which is the reason why they argue and bicker a lot. they're sorta friends or okay at the end of the comic so this is what i kinda wanted to explore here? what if they actually communicate and make up? (and potentially fall in love from all the oppressed feelings) theyre gonna develop and change throughout this fic so much (im so suprised that no one has written this idea before???)
> 
> 2\. im also gonna be exploring whiskey's character (i feel like there's missed oppurunity there) and what he really is. i do this by introducing another character, kinda similar to nursey but he just wants to make friends! he's also filipino-american! (devy is going to be a fleshedout character dw!)
> 
> 3\. each chapter will be atleast 2 to 4k words long!
> 
> 4\. It’s really weird how some nurseydex fic use racism as like character growth? That’s not gonna happen, I’m sticking to canon as much as possible and in this fic Dex never EVER was racist or had a racist past, the reason why they hated each other was because Dex not knowing the difference between class and white privellege, and he was MAYBE to be implied to be a republican, in this fic Dex truly didn’t know some stuff and was educated by some of the Samwell stuff, the main focus of this fic is repairing their relationship because their personalities really clash together, and them trying to get a middle ground between the two.
> 
> EDIT: i've looked back on some parts of the fic and i've noticed i wrote nursey looking like he had absent parents within these first 13 chapters and how it feeds into the racist stereotype and I am truly sorry. I'm currently fixing that in the future chapters!

When Bitty was up there, speaking, wearing his whole heart on his sleeve out in the open in front of so many people. Dex thinks: he can never do that. To be so  _ vulnerable  _ out there, letting his words spill out to the crowd of people holding up pride signs. Dex isn’t like Whiskey, he isn’t  _ that  _ private and closed off.

But still, when he sees Bitty kiss the ice with tears falling down his cheek. He recalls back to his time with Bitty. That the kitchen will  _ never  _ be smelling of pie and jam every morning, something else will take over that smell, perhaps greasy eggs and bacon that Chowder cooks every once in a while. The house will lose that voice from Bitty, something compared to the sun, bright. Bitty won’t be here anymore, with his steady hand while baking pies in his other hand.

It  _ really  _ digs into him by the time they play Hockey. With Chowder, Nursery and Dex hopping onto the ice to play hockey while bending the rules, all of them too high on nostalgia and joy to not care about stupid rules. Bitty and Jack reflect the dynamic of their relationship onto the ice: steady and balancing, either of them having to step up if there needs to be someone just a little bit further up ahead. Holster, Shitty and Ransom play for laughs.

Him, Chowder and Nursey play along with Lardo. Facing off against everyone. But the ice scrapes along his skates, Nursey is there, just behind him. They have this strange dynamic, stemming from freshman year to hating each other’s guts and after long, long, long hours of lectures from Nursey that Dex finally gets about privilege and racism.

They’re… okay now. Not friends. Not close friends. But being able to banter with ease and to lean on each other, friendly competitions and who stupid teenage boy fights (for fun, of course)

Dex’s team wins.

And after that day, he watches Bitty jump into the truck with Jack after loading all of his things onto the back. Dex lingers just a little bit longer, on the banners, photos of the team, the books that he sometimes borrows from Bitty. One of them being his childhood one,  _ The Beginning woods. _

Dex doesn’t cry. Nursey does because… he’s Nursey. He takes up the role like the living meme of  _ this is fine _ . Dex watches Nursey wave, until they’re off into the distance while Denice rounds everyone back to the Haus, almost all of them packing to go back to their hometowns for the break. It all comes and goes with hugs, laughter and the promise to text each other in the groupchat by the time to update on their break. Chowder smiles at him, walking outside to greet his girlfriend. Last night he was too giddy to introduce Caitlin to his parents. Denice gives him a tight squeeze, her smile warm, hair smelling of papaya and vanilla. 

“Don’t burn down the house,” she says, “looking at the  _ two  _ of you.”

_ Two of you. _

_ Plural. _

“No worries Denice!” Nursey says behind him, putting his hands on his shoulders (which is strangely soft, what does he use?)

“Dude?” Dex says once they get back into the Haus, the silence pleads of shouting from Denice and the smell of hockey gear, he can’t decide whether he likes this newfound quiet that settles over the Haus, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

“It’s  _ chill _ , I didn’t want to go back home.”

“Why?”

  
“I don’t know, just bored I guess.”

Dex rolls his eyes.

When he gets back to his bed late at night from staring at the TV, everything is bathing in darkness, with the exception of the tiny blip of light that comes from his laptop that he saved up to get for two years. He can make out the plants in his room, filling up the room with greenery. Tall ferns, small cacti, vines from pots that reach the ground. He has a record for all of these plants, when to take them out for sunshine and went to water them.

His bedroom ‘basement bungalow’ is simple. Creme white walls that remind him of his childhood bedroom, team photos framed that hangs from walls, a wooden wardrobe that he bought from an IKEA sale that stands out like a sore thumb (it’s filled with hockey gear and thrifted clothes), a wooden beige desk that’s a hand me down. He can make out the outlines of the sticky notes on his desk, the mason jar full of pens from Bitty and bobble head Jack. Within the mess of his single bed is mismatched blankets, sheets and pillows that he washes every week. It’s not thick enough to stave off the winter nights.

There’s no remnants of his family or hometown. His room is a blank slate. No high school graduation staring at him.

Maybe it’s because he grew up in places where his parents stressed on whether they had enough money to buy food or not. Habits knocked onto him, only get the essentials (with the exceptions of plants). 

Within the early morning sunlight seeps through the slits on the walls and under the door. It bathes everything in soft light, highlighting the floating dust that Dex tried to catch in his hands when he was a kid. He gets up and dressed in sweatpants and a singlet, bursts through the door and takes the steps in two and he goes for a run outside. 

The truth is, he likes peace and quiet. That’s why he couldn’t deal with Nursery, too much noise and groaning and nuisances, too complex for the two college boys to work out. It’s what leads him to forfeit the room, shoving all of his stuff into the basement where he can be alone. Alone, because he never got to be  _ alone  _ in his high school. Always sharing the cramped room with his brother. And once he gets a taste of solitude, he hangs onto it like a thread.

Dex has Youth Lagoon blasting through his headphones (that Nursey bought him) while his muscles ebb with a familiar ache. Running, it’s a part of him. All the way through his high school sports, which spreads to his hockey school team. They barely won. But it was in the thrill of Dex being the wild card within the games. Their school team caused a lot of upsets, keeping the leaderboard interesting despite their school out of the game.

And years later. He’s the captain of his own hockey team.

He nearly trips over a crack on the footpath when gets back to the Haus.

The week and days blend together, consisting of key smashes on the groupchat from Bitty and the team group chat filling up with updates. Nursey often invites him to parties nearby, Dex doesn’t like parties that aren't in the Haus. Dex declines by flipping him off, Nursey tells him to chill. But during the moments, there’a pause, a hesitation in Nursey’s footsteps when he leaves to walk out of that door to go to some  _ stupid  _ party.

Dex often seems to be in a completely different mood in those times.

Although they wake up in different times, they sometimes meet at odd hours of the night. It’s 2 in the morning, Dex walking into the kitchen to get some more coffee to get more hours into his own coding project when he meets him. Nursey, in sweatpants a bit too big for him and a grey graphic T-shirt. Moonlight streams through the windows and he sees how Nursey’s eyelashes catch the silver light, and his eyes turn into a darker green, like a sickly emerald. 

“Yo,” Nursey mumbles, he goes to the fridge and Dex is glad for him to break the silence.

“What are  _ you  _ doing up?” 

“Couldn’t sleep, you?”

“Same.”

  
Silence.

The thing is. The. Thing. Is. The both of them know enough about each other. Their boundaries and spaces, the way they move on and off the ice, how Nursey sometimes talks in pure poetry that makes Dex want to roll his eyes to the back of his head. But yet, they can’t bring themselves to turn silences into comfortable ones. Because that’s who they are, bordering between the edge of ‘friends’ and ‘frenemies’.

Dex shifts, he goes to fill the kettle. Nursey goes to microwave Bitty’s own creation that he calls ‘two minute apple crumbles’ which is just sliced apples, oatmeal and some other ingredients. 

They go back to their rooms. Dex couldn’t focus. He opts to watch netflix in the Haus account.

\--

The tadpoles are here soon. Or waffles. Whatever. Dex doesn’t know what to call them. The coach and the team managers filled him in on the newcomer to the team. Devon Fernandez, Filipino-American (“We’re calling him Devy,” Nursey hums), he’s got a glimpse at his video. He moves with haste, brown eyes tense as hits the puck with such speed. Whiskey has competition.

And the oven…

He grazes his fingertips over the knobs, the paint a bit chipped. It’s a reminder that Bitty was here, baking his millionth pie of the week to keep everyone in check. He has memorised the information. Tango is moving in with Whiskey, the newcomer is moving into the spare rooms. He ignores Chowder and Nursey’s whining about breaking the rules in the afternoon.

So it’s how he finds himself at four am, with Chowder and Nursey already back in the Haus. His hands are shaky when he flips the lights on, taking the measurement of the flour and sugar, taking the raspberry and blueberries into the bowl while he reads Bitty’s ‘simpler’ pie recipes. Soon the kitchen smells of familiarity: flour, blueberries and raspberries with the warm smell of pie that’s coming from the oven. 

He’s sitting on the floor now. His eyebags mix in with the hues of purple and red, a bit papery. His shoulders are tense, flour on his clithes

He didn’t even realise that Nursey and Chowder were standing there, they both looked like they couldn’t sleep well before the noise from the kitchen.

“Dude you need to--”

“--Don’t you dare say chill, Nursey,” Dex huffs, standing up to roll more dough, rolling his sleeves up, “because I don’t need to hear that hit right now.”

“Dex--”

“--Chowder,” he says. 

He realises his tone sounds just like his parents. 

_ You’re turning into something that you swore you wouldn’t turn into. _

He opens his mouth, but then closes it. His throat tightens. He’s not good at words, stretching them out into sentences that can turn into rich, complex poetry like Nursey. Or Bitty’s words turning to comfort with his southern accent. He’s not either of those things.

He’s goddamn  _ Willaim Pointerdexter  _ and he’s starting to regret that maybe he’s not cut out for this.

“Chowder can you get the pies into the fridge and clean up, this is more than enough,” Nursey cuts in.

“I’m fine, I don’t need help.”

“Dex, stop being a  _ twat  _ for once and let me help you.”

“I don’t need help--”

Which is how they find themselves half-wrestling like two year olds in the living room, the two of them barely putting effort in. Within a flip of the moment, Nursey gets the upper hand and pins him to the floor with his foot. It brings brief flashes to freshman year, the two of them brawling because they hated each other so much.

Now, this. This is just… not hatred. Just teenage boys being fucking stupid. He thinks anyways.

“Listen to me,” Nursey huffs, Dex can’t move, “you’re not Bitty, you’re William  _ fucking  _ Pointerdexter. So you don’t… you don’t need to do  _ any  _ of these things. Okay?”

“Okay,” he breathes out.

“And if you want to make pies, make your  _ own  _ pie. Don’t be Bitty. You’re  _ you _ .”

“You’re strangling me.”

“Right, sorry.”

  
Nursey gets off Dex and stands up. Dex sighs. He stays on the floor and puts his head back on the couch.

“I’m not good at words, or anything like that. It’s just like that Bitty made us so  _ welcomed  _ with everything with all the fucking pies, so I though that if I could bake pies I could…”

  
He trails off. He has no energy to keep talking. In the kitchen sounds of feet shuffling, cutlery and tupperwares opening. Dex rests his elbows on his knees and sighs.

“I fucking hate you,” Dex huffs out, chuckling, void of any malice.

“Right back at you,” Nursey hums.

\-- 

They opt to call them tadpoles. The ‘initiation’ isn’t done on the ice, but rather in the Haus. It consists of trying to fix an oven under the hour, then bake a perfect pie from Bitty’s famous recipe. Devy gets it done with ten minutes to spare, the kitchen smells of blueberries and dough after. 

Nursey leans against the wall, eating an apple, “sup, name’s Nursey.”

Devy smiles at him. Dex immediately gets a glimpse of his personality, through his baggy denim jeans that’s cuffed, white vans and tucked in Samwell t-shirts. He puts his hands into his pockets, the light washes his skin into a deep colour of tawny-brown, something akin to polished clay. His black hair curls like the smoke that brims from a campfire. Devy even moves differently, smoothly. Dex can’t figure him out.

“Devon,” he says, he pulls Nursey into a soft hug, tapping him on the back.

“Your name isn’t Devon anymore, dude. It’s Devy now. It’s a nickname thing in the hockey team.”

“Oh.”

  
Dex realises he’s something similar to Nursey.

There’s going to be  _ two  _ Nursey’s.

Dex doesn’t know what to say about that.

Whiskey comes in like a restless, stormy clouds settling over the dark seas. His clothes wrinkled, bags slung over his while he takes the stairs in two. He doesn’t speak to anyone else and the door slamming behind him makes Denice sigh. Chowder, Nursey and Devy are talking in the living room about the rules and how everyone else just piles onto the Haus and the occasional parties.

He calls Bitty that night as he makes his way to his bedroom.

“I just… how did you deal with Whiskey, Bitty?”

Bitty draws a long breath from the other end of the line, there’s the sound of feet shuffling in the background, “he’s… different from the rest, you have to be patient with him.”

“He slammed the door when he came into the Haus,” he mumbles, catching a glimpse of Whiskey with Louis in the kitchen talking, he looks calm, “but with Louis and Denice he’s… not like that.”

“I told Whiskey that he can text me when he needs to talk, he was blowing up my phone over the break,” Dex swerves to avoid Chowder who’s carrying a giant shark plush, he’s never gonna get used to the chaos of the Haus, “I’m gonna go into detail here because it’s not my place Dex but… Whiskey’s confused and scared. Don’t push him. But don’t treat him like glass. Does that make sense?”

Dex smiles, the stairs creaking under his feet, “yeah, thank you Bitty,” he says. Dex hesitates, not wanting to hang up, to tell him that he misses Bitty. He misses the pep-talks in the changing rooms and his comforting smiles, picking other people up from the ground and telling them that you don’t have to be the perfect cookie cutter.

It doesn’t come out of his mouth.

  
He finds Nursey doing his laundry in the basement, bluetooth earbuds in, humming to one of his songs. He upcaps the fabric softener, opening the lid of the washing machine. 

“Dude, who were you talking to?” Nursey asks, he takes out one of his earbuds.

“Bitty.”

  
“Why Bitty?”

“None of your business,” he goes to put his hand on his doorknob, but then Nursey pulls on his wrist. Dex feels the warmth from his hand. It grounds him, like how he used to dig his toes into the soft sand on the lake from his hometown. He would stand there after school, feel like it’s just him and no one else, the wind on his face.

It was his safe space.

“Hey,” Nursey says, his tone softer this time, “I know that we don’t get along  _ all  _ the time.”

“Yeah no shit--”

“--but I know you enough that you hate new things,” Nursey says. Dex has to stop himself from moving, they’re not close, how does Nursey know him so well like the back of his hand? “So if you need help, me and Chowder are here. Denice is here as well.”

“Cool,” Dex manages to breathe out, not wanting to raise his voice any louder.

“Cool,” Nursey lets go of his wrist, realising the awkwardness and tension that has attached itself to the stale air. He hesitates to go back to doing his laundry, Dex watches him pull his sleeves up, dumping all of his clothes into the washing machine. 

He goes to sleep with difficulty. Somehow the silence and solitude feels foreign to him this time.

  
  



	2. hidden language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the more that i write the more i realise how slow the first few chapters will be when progressing hte story and the character arc etc. this will begin to pick up after chapter 4 (having to share the bed together *winks*) these few chapters will just be there to send the foundations i guess? and how the characters interract with each other
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated

Dex is slowly getting used to the fact that he  _ has  _ things. That he has money to spend on his indulgences, sweet things and comfort food that he can get from the cafeteria. He has a steady part-time job at a repair-shop that coats his hands with soot. and everytime he gets back from a shift Nursey tells him he looks like shit which turns into a banter/argument that fills the room.

He stares at his pale skin on the bathroom mirror, the colour of porcelain tea cups that his mother always fantasized, her finger would graze over the magazine cover while she tells a story far into the future about how they’ll have enough money to get both their  _ wants  _ and  _ needs _ . That was before the shouting happened.

Dex’s thumb grazes over his freckles over his cheeks. Nursey once told him that it looks like  _ ‘flickers of gold amidst the harsh cliffside’ _ . Dex flipped him the finger. Nursey just laughed. He remembers during the summer breaks, the harsh sun beating down on his skin, sleeves rolled up as he moves things into uncle’s lobster boat. They couldn’t afford sunscreen.

Over the course, his cheeks start to litter with more and more flickers (with a lot of sunburns as well). Parts of his cheeks turn into a permanent shade of red, it settles into a soft pink-red by the time that he gets to Samwell. He sighs, getting the buzzer as he cuts his hair. He settles into a sense of calm, the noise slowly drowning out and turning into white noise.

\--

_ The haus _

**_Nurseeyy_ **

_ Dexxxxxxxyyyy _

**_Angry ginger go brr_ **

_ What _

**_Nurseeyy_ **

_ The stove is broken _

**_Angry ginger go brr_ **

_ Give me a few minutes im in the bathroom _

**_D e v y_ **

_ I can fix it  _

_ I had to do alot of the tinkering at home _

**_Shark_ **

_ That’s so cool _

**_D e v y_ **

_ Thanks chowder _

**_Shark_ **

_ Can u fix the dryer too. _

**_Angry ginger go brr_ **

_ I just fixed it a week ago _

**_Shark_ **

_ Sorry :((( _

**_D e v y_ **

_ Oh btw wheres Whiskey? Is he in this groupchat _

**_Tangyy_ **

_ Everytime i try to add him he just leaves :( _

**_Denice <33_ **

_ Only me and tango can really get through him _

**_Nurseeyy_ **

_ hey Dex remember when you had a jacuzzi in your room and all that extra shit  _

**_Angry ginger go brr_ **

_ I had to take them down bc denice didn’t like them fk off nurse _

**_Nurseeyy_ **

_ I didn’t even get a tour _

**_Angry ginger go brr_ **

_ Yep :^) _

**_Shark_ **

_ I miss your steam shower 😔😔 _

\--

They’re doing practise, Dex thinks he’s going to blow his brains out. He will be two people at once, working with his coach and pairing people up. Louis, the music nerd of the hockey team with Tango as he changes Whiskey with Devy. He watches the two of them from afar, getting used to each other’s speed. Devy is the only one who can keep up with Whiskey’s speed, the two of them supriginsly work well together. They’re complete opposites. Fire and water. Moon and sun.

When Dex looks back at Nursey, he sees a soft smile curling on Nursey’s face.

“What?”

“It’s kinda like us,” Nursey mumbles, watching Devy try to talk to him but he simply gets brushed off, “except with the… you know.”

“Yeah.”

Silence bewitched them. Dex sighs, readying his hockey stick. He skates to the other wall of the ice, the two of them opposite to each other. He can see the smile on Nursey’s from far away, it’s a flash of white teeth, full of ‘chill’. Dex rolls his eyes. Nursey taps the ice twice, then he sees how his shoulders tenses, then relaxes.

Nursey shifts.

He hits the puck with such speed that it  _ almost  _ goes past Dex. That’s the first time it’s happened.

“Nursey!”

“What? I’m supposed to hit it you know that--”

“--But not like that!”

“Dude, it’s  _ chill _ .”

Dex actively wishes for the sweet kiss of death. 

“ _ Nursey _ , it floated off a meter off the ground. You can’t do that in practise.”

Nursey skates towards him, dragging his ice hockey stick, “okay, I won’t do it.”

“You’re gonna do it again, Nursey.”

A pause.

Then, Nursey says, “yeah.”

He realises how hard BItty’s job was, now Dex is putting together a dysfunctional family together that’s sustains itself from Chowder and Denise’s bacon and eggs for breakfast, cheap beer cans and Nursey’s essay checking (“I’m studying pretty words not fucking essays,” Nursey said). Dex doesn’t know how they’ve held up each other for this long.

He looks to the side, watching Devy lean against the wall, playing with his hockey stick while he rants to Whiskey who’s positively not listening. How is Whiskey putting up with him? This is going to go on for way too long, for a year that will drag itself through the dirt slowly.

He looks back to Nursey who’s taking the puck, going to where he was before. Dex rolls his eyes, annoyance brims underneath his skin. He’s going hot under his hockey gear. Chowder skates over to them, his hair just peeking through the helmet.

“Hey guys,” he halts to a stop, “Dex, Nursey.”

“Hey Chowder, tell your dad to stop being so grumpy,” Nursey hums.

Chowder, who’s sometimes more clueless than Louis at times just says, “ _ huh.” _

He tightens the hold on his hockey stick tightly, he thinks his knuckles are going white. This is Dex, an awkward ginger who doesn’t have a good grip on his temper. Including Nursey, which doesn’t help. Nursey’s ‘chill’ attitude and Dex’s uptight, awkwardness is like water against oil. 

Yet they somehow always  _ click  _ on the ice. 

He starts up again, half-heartedly listening to Chowder rant about his homework while Nursey just sometimes nods and slots in his own opinions all while Dex tries to stop pucks speeding towards him. Slowly they get into a rhythm of a flow, something easy going, akin to breathing. 

He watches Nursey’s whole body as he shift, gowing lower into the ice. Dex does the same, but his muscles don't relax and soften like Nursey’s. It’s uptight, tense, awkwardly wobbling but still having the strength to dig deep into the ice. When Nursey answers one of Chowder’s questions while hitting the puck with such quickness that Dex--

\--gets hit on the arm.

\--

It leaves a bitter, ugly bruise that blooms of black and blue. One of the nurses checks on the bruise, lightly pressing into the wound. She sends Dex out with a pack of ice and tells him that he didn’t break anything, that the bruise will go away after a day or two. He’s the last one to shower and change, shoving his sweaty hockey gear into his bag as he pulls on his brown cargo jacket over him, stepping into his baggy jeans, his sleeve pulled up while he presses the ice bag onto it. 

He feels Nursey’s arm coming around his neck when he steps into the outside, something he’s grown accustomed to. He fixes the strap that’s digging into his shoulder. 

“Dude, you okay?”

Dex doesn’t have the energy in him anymore to be angry, so he just sighs and says, “yeah, I’m fine. Just a bruise.”

“Sick, I was fucking worried about you for a second.”

They begin to walk back to the Haus, Nursey doesn’t have his arm around his neck anymore, that familiar  _ feeling _ isn’t there. He doesn’t look like he just came out of practise, he looks clean, nice. His bag slung over his shoulder, khaki coloured pants hugging his legs with a grey sweater, the white shirt collar popped through. He looks… nice.

He feels out of league next to him, with his baggy jeans and jacket. 

That’s when he realises he doesn't spend a lot of time alone with Nursey. He watches him scroll through his phone, thumbing over his social media as he sees a tweet from Bitty. He 

laughs, sounding sweet and deep like honey, filling the air between them.

“You know… what do you plan when you get out of Samwell?” Nursey asks. It’s such a simple question, but it all stems from counting cents on the dinner table along with his brother to see if they could get a bar of chocolate down the road.

“Get a job in Google. Coding. Or something. I don’t know, I just want to make money,” he says, but he doesn’t say:  _ I don’t want to go hungry ever again. _

“So… 9-5 desk job or something similar?” Nursey hums. It whirs something inside him, bursting at the seams. It’s his biggest fear, repeating the same day and routine over and over again, days blending as he’s slumped over his computer, fixing a code on the website of a company that’s already going under.

_ It’s different, his job isn’t going to be like that. _

Dex clears his throat, “w-what about you… Nursey?” He asks, realising the pauses in his words.

“Become a pretentious author and end up on New York’s best seller’s list,” Nursey says in a flat tone, Dex can’t quiet figure out if he’s joking or not, “it’s chill.”

He lets Nursey talk, listening to his ramblings about poetry and his goals, but also the incredibly bigoted classical books that everyone loves. When Dex realises, this is how they make up. This is how they apologise to each other, not through saying the word  _ sorry _ so many times that it fills the room and they suffocate. No. It’s through this, ramblings and conversations. No grand gestures and gifts being given to each other. Just… this.

He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

When he looks back at Nursey, the sun washes him in a soft light, but so bright at the same time. The colours of joy, the extremities of saturation of colours blending and going higher. Dex finds it blinding. He looks away. But something makes him look back at him, even though he has to squint at the glares of his brightness.

Because he reminds him of someone, back at his high school. It’s like he’s a replica of the boy that he knew in high school once. His joy was so bright that you didn’t need to look at him directly, you would feel the glare in the corner of your eyes. He was the type of person to walk into a room and when he spoke he turned heads. Through the way he walked, with his relaxed steps and hands in his pockets he made people so… safe.

His name...Dex can’t remember his name. He’s just another stranger now, blending in with his hundreds of different bodies, his face blurry. But Dex remembers smiled and how he lit up the room… it’s a strange feeling. There were opposites. Light and Dark. 

When Dex gets to the Haus, Nursey taps him on the shoulder and tells him to keep it ‘ _ chill _ ’, Dex rolls his eyes and playfully punches him on the shoulder. 

\--

He couldn’t sleep. So he runs in the middle of the night. Under the pitch black sky and the flickering street lamps that wash everything in it’s yellow hue, blending in with the blue haze of the night. His feet thuds against the damp walkway, muscles aching a little bit after running for thirty minutes. 

He does this when he can’t think properly or he has things to get off his mind. Run. Something he did back in his hometown. He would run all the way down to the lake, sit there on the dock and dip his feet into the clear waters, drinking in the silver moonlight. Running. He likes how he can feel the earth thudding beneath him, or how the sweat that drips down his forehead, or the early 2000’s pop song that blasts through his earphones. 

He gets back to the Haus at one am, drenched in sweat. When he gets inside he takes off his hoodie, his chest moving, white singlet damp as it sticks to his chest. His legs are a little wobbly, muscles protesting as he makes his way to the kitchen all sore to get a bottle of water from the fridge.

He expects the fridge full of pies, all in tupperwares. But then he realises there’s only a couple, all of them baked from him. Dex sighs, he takes a bottle of water from the kitchen, closing the fridge as he sits on the counter. The cold water feels nice against his dry throat.

He almost falls off the counter when he sees Whiskey, in sweatpants and a wrinkled oversized graphic shirt. He looks… surprisingly human, brown hair all frizzy, his red eyes not holding the usual tense and focus out in the ice when he strikes the puck with such precision.

It’s strange.

Dex quickly thinks of a bunch of words to say, but all it comes out is a weak, strained and forced, “ _ Whiskey… _ ”

He looks at him, eyes glinting, a spark of personality for a mere moment before he goes to the cabinet to get a bag of potato chips. “Dex…”

Silence fills and fills. Dex doesn’t know how to talk to Whiskey properly, he doesn’t know what to talk about. Small talk is out of the question. Long, meaningful conversations are out of the question that unravel hidden depths about themselves a hundred miles off the table. Dex settles on, “how are you finding the new frog?”

“Devy?” Whiskey says, voice a little strained.

“Yeah… him.”

A beat passes, before Whiskey says, “he’s… annoying.”

“Y-yeah h-he’s kinda like Nursey--”   
  


“--We don’t have to do this… whole thing,” Whiskey interrupts, opening the bag of chips, it’s a pause in the awkward silences that drown the both of them, “you don’t have to be like  _ Bitty _ . We don’t have to speak. We don’t have to hold each other’s hands.”

He’s not hurt. He understands. Dex remembers what Bitty told him over on the phone call.

_ “I’m gonna go into detail here Dex but… Whiskey’s confused and scared. Don’t push him. But don’t treat him like glass. Does that make sense?” _

He just has to be patient, keep waiting until Whiskey finally unravels. He mutters a quick  _ okay  _ but then realises that Whiskey is already walking up the stairs. Dex stays there for a little bit, standing in the darkness of the kitchen, bathing in the silver moonlight. He stares out of the window like he’s trying to conjure a memory.

\--

He wakes up and goes on autopilot. His muscles groan against himself while he puts on a grey hoodie, walking over to the kitchen to see Denice and Chowder cooking bacon and eggs. Nursey’s hair is still damp from the shower that almost took up all of the hot water, he goes over make his cup of coffee. Too much sugar and too much creamer.

“Mornin’ Dex,” the toaster goes off, Nursey goes to take the toasted bread, “how was your late night run?”

Dex squints at him, “how did you know?”

“I saw you from my window, you looked like shit.”   
  


“Fuck off,” Dex mumbles, he gets a soft chuckle from Nursey. He watches him leave, toast on top of his cup as he makes his way back to his room, taking the stairs two at a time. On the table Devy has Louis’s headphones, saying something about the bpm as Louis nods. Whiskey looks tired, slumped over the dining table as he scrolls through his phone.

They meet eyes for a split second.

Whiskey looks away, looking at his egg and toast like it's the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. They eat and flow through a casual conversation. Yell over whether the referee on the first game of The Providence Falconers was biased. Talk about horrible hook-up stories (Dex just eats and listens, he doesn’t have time for hookups). Sometimes Devy interjects questions about Bitty, and he talks about whether they can get sticky rice from the groceries so he can make  _ bico _ . Dex just stares and stares, listening.

It’s good, really good. He thinks. Nursey comes back down from the stairs, a colourful striped sweater, Samwell hat on and baggy blue jeans. He goes over to sit next to Dex, opening his notepad as he writes with his eyebrows stitched together, face focused. It’s something that he’s realised about Nursey, always bringing a notepad with him, writing when inspiration hits him.

“You know, Nursey, I thought you would be like… a hipster or something,” Devy comments, chewing on his toast.

“Hipster Nursey died a s;pw painful death in my sophomore year,” he mumbles, Chowder turns his back to mutter a  _ rest in peace _ , “killed by Jock Nursey. Everyone hates me in my poetry class every time I say  _ chill _ or  _ dude _ .”

Tango just looks confused. Devy gives Louis back his headphones. Denice is on the phone with the coach. Scent of eggs and sausages slowly filters out and gets taken over by something similar to an earthy smell, of books, musky, strong but not enough to make his own nose hurt.

It’s from Nursey’s cologne. It smells… good.

They walk together to class, Dex on his phone typing an email to his professor while Nursey is ranting about something to Chowder. He’s not used to this noise, the chatter. Not like the casual conversation in the library when all of the team sometimes study there or during breakfast, it’s loud and bright.

Dex doesn't know how to feel about it. But they do find common ground on teasing Chowder from time to time, so there’s that. 

“So anyways, so I was like ‘dude, it’s  _ chill _ ’ and then one of the guys at my class like goes bat shit crazy,” Nursey says. Chowder laughs. Dex finished with his email and sends it out. When he looks up he finds Nursey tumbling--

\--and falling flat on the ground.

He tripped over his own self, or something like that. Because Dex’s laughter bubbles out of his own lungs so hard that he has to sit on the ground, cheeks hurting, throat sore while Chowder tries to help Nursey up. He can’t control his laughter, it’s the ones that come every blue moon.

His laughter, it brightens and is full of so much colour that it reminds him of his stupid crayon drawings that he did when he was just six, still hanging from the fridge. When Nursey and him lock eyes everything halts, something shifts. It’s like Nursey is speaking to him in complex words, just like his poetry. Though he doesn't understand the pacings, the metaphors, the tiniest details of what he’s saying. It’s like trying to understand an ancient, secret language that has just been unearthed.

Nursey clears his throat, brushing dust off his jeans. Dex splits off from them to his own side of the building. He spends the day a little unfocused, but he gets his project done. 


	3. longing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if it’s a little late!! Sleep schedule got messed up a little bit 😔✨
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated

Dex doesn’t feel like going for a run this morning. So instead he goes to Annie’s alone, hands in his pocket, counting that he only has ten bucks for a latte. He’s instantly back to his ‘barista days’ back at his ‘hometown’, the stench of coffee beans and sometimes burning himself on the steamer. Callous conversations being carried by quick sips of coffee or biting onto cinnamon toast. He orders. He sits at the table which only has two chairs, hands grazing over the grooves of the mahogany tables. The fake rose on the tiny pink, vase is throwing him off.

One of the barista comes over to him, name tag saying:  _ Chloe, She/Her _ . Green apron wrapped around her uniform, her brown hair tied up in a lazy ponytail. She smiles at him, her soft lips showing white teeth. Within the cafe light, her skin glistens something similar to fawn with a tinge of pink on her cheeks, reminding him of sun-kissed sand. When she puts down his latte he gets a glimpse of her nose, wide, rounded. It’s pretty.

Dex forgets how to breathe. That’s how he is, always falling in love with people that he meets with a drop of a hat. 

But he just smiles and nods and lets perhaps the love of his life walk away.

They won't work, he’s just an awkward ginger.

He hides the flush of his cheeks by fishing out his phone, plugging in his earbuds as he goes to play some old angst music from his childhood. He doesn’t know why he’s spending his time at Annie’s, maybe it’s because his room is beginning to feel foreign, the silence ringing in his ears, solitude becoming more of a cage than home. The voices that bounce in the Haus helps, a little bit anyway.

  
But he likes Annie’s, it’s peaceful with the sounds of coffee machines whistling and people lightly laughing filling the air. He spends his time responding emails, looking at a future coding program that’s being developed (“Too simple,” he comments while he takes a sip of his coffee) and—

“Pointerdexter!”

The peaceful silence is broken by Nursey tumbling into the chair with the legs scraping against the floor, he gets a few head turns. He sits in front of Dex. He thinks he’s getting  _ too  _ used to Nursey barging into his life. It’s strange. He doesn’t mind it.

“Nursey…”

He watches him put down his notebook onto the table, alongside his iced coffee. 

“What are you doing here?” Dex asks, he takes off his earbuds, putting his elbows on the table and lets his head lean against his head.

“What are  _ you  _ doing here?” Nursey reflects back onto him. Dex just shrugs.

Nursey shrugs as well.

They settle into an easy quiet that neither of them don’t want to break. Dex thinks it’s too precious, too expensive to break. Something akin to something rare, these bubbles of silence that the both of them share is… weird. He thumbs over another article, fires off another passive-aggressive email to one of the people in his group project. Time slips past his fingers, soon his mug is empty.

When he looks up, he sees Nursey twirling a pencil between his fingers, sighing. In front of him is a notebook full of crossed out lines of what he thinks is a poem. Dex knows Nursey well enough that he’s protective of his writing, but somehow finds the courage to write in public space. Sometimes covering his notepad, closing down a document when someone walks into the kitchen.

But through the rose and the twirling of his pencil, Dex sees a line on his notepad. It says:

_ “Let our bodies pressed together under the heat of sweat, even though I promised myself that you would be nothing more than a daydream.” _

It feels private, like Dex peering into Nursey’s secrets. So he looks away. 

—

Practicing with the team without Bitty is weird. Dex has to remind himself that he has to step up into the light. Talking to the coach for more improvements, schedules for everyone in the team to hit the gym. Him and Nursey only argue  _ once _ and it ends up being fine. Chowder is always there to mediate the argument. Nursey tells him to  _ chill _ . Dex rolls his eyes.

The three of them stay behind for just a little bit longer, Nursey and Chowder changing in the locker rooms after spending a little bit of time on the ice bath. He watches Nursey’s back shift, shoulder blades rising when he takes off his shirt with one swift motion. Under the light his skin is a soft shade of brown that Nursey could probably write into complex, poetic words.

  
Dex changes a little bit quicker this time.

His muscles ache a little bit but it’s a familiar sort of pain, something akin after his track and field in his freshman to sophomore days. He sighs. He talks with Nursey and Chowder on their way back to the Haus, the afternoon sky going to a deeper shade of colour already.

When he puts his hands into his pockets, he looks at the both of them. Nursey pushes them forward and makes sometimes  _ very  _ questionable decisions. Chowder is the one to hesitate, asking whether it's fine to keep going. Dex keeps them in line, steadying the three of them. It works, he thinks. Even though he  _ still  _ has to untangle some issues with Nursey.

(He won’t get into that)

He’s lucky. Life is good. It’s  _ really  _ good at this moment. 

When they go back into the Haus laughter fills the air. Stepping into the kitchen he spots everyone at the kitchen, sleeves rolled up and flour coating the bench. He doesn’t think of how long it’s going to take to clean up the kitchen. Dex instead looks over to Devy helping Whiskey with the dough, Louis humming with headphones in while Tango almost blows up a pie in the oven.

Nursey explodes into a laughter so loud that Dex finds himself chuckling too. Denice goes over to read over the instruction while Bully holds the Ipad, seeing Bitty’s face on facetime is a familiar sight. The iPad sits it on the bench, propped up on the wall. This feels like a casual recurrence that he’s going to see weekly, he pulls up his sleeves and squeezes himself between two people. Dex mixes the filling, Nursey next to him as he talks to Bitty about Jack.

It’s good, it’s nice. Even though it’ll take a while to get the apple stains off the bench and to wipe up the floors. Chowder laughs and laughs, his joy so contagious that it rubs off a bit on Whiskey’s body, whose shoulder is relaxed, finding himself laughing along with some of Devy’s jokes.

After ten pies and Bitty logging off the night creeps in through the windows, bathing everything it touched in a silver light. Carrying a pie on his hands he turns on the living room lights, flickering for a moment before everyone tumbles into the couches and into the floor. Whiskey goes to sit next to Louis. Denice, Devy, Chowder and Nursey all huddled with pies around them, a casual conversation about what was the most whitest thing they’ve done that sends them into a pile of laughter. He stands there, feeling like he’s peering into something he shouldn’t be looking at.

His mind drifts back to a home that’s a whole world away, a town full of raging bigots, slurs, and a fucked up family. Dex thinks he doesn’t want to go back there. Not now, not ever.  _ That _ isn’t his home anymore, living on his Uncle’s lobster boat, getting drunk with his hockey team in high school even though he felt so  _ lonely  _ surrounded with the beat of bodies.

He’s not that anymore. He’s changed. Through Shitty’s lectures and talks, through Nursey he’s changed. But the thought still lingers, waiting for the right moment to dig it’s claws into his skin and let it bleed.

He ends up sitting with Bully and Hops. He thought about sitting with Whiskey. But it’s too early, he thinks. He has to be patient.

—

He couldn’t focus on his coding project, after five minutes he closes his laptop and gets out of his bed. Suddenly he’s feeling cold sweat running down his forehead and the familiar thud of the ground beneath him while he runs. He listens to old angst music and reminisces about his hometown. He thinks about that boy that he used to know, and how he’s just a faceless stranger.

But his joy was something close to a thousand stars.

When he gets back to the Haus floorboards creak underneath his feet. He hears the soft murmur of voices, a foreign language, Mandarin. Dex walks into the kitchen, sweat glistening in the low light with his headphones hanging off his T-shirt. He takes the kitchen towel and wipes away his sweat. If Denice was here she would tell him off.

But instead it’s Nursey and Chowder on the kitchen table, with Nursey’s usual notepad and pencil case laid on the kitchen counter as he leans against it the counter, holding out flash cards for Chowder to read. There’s a bit of shakiness in Chowder’s voice when he reads out the Mandarin phrases, a bit low and unsure, like a cat.

In the notepad, Dex makes out a couple of lines. One of them sticks out, hastily written as it says:

_ “How long will we dance around the glass shards on the floor until we realise?” _

Dex throws the kitchen towel on the sink, putting his hands into his pockets while his faint music fills the air, “what are you guys up to?”

“Chowder’s oral presentation,” Nursey murmurs, his finger tapping on the flash cards as he switches to the next one, “he’s a wreck of nerves because of it.”

Chowder murmurs something in Mandarin that Dex thinks is a curse word, though he can’t quiet tell.

“Flash cards aren’t really the best to memorise from what I’ve found,” Dex says.

“Dex you study coding,” Nursey retorts back.

“Wanna talk, Jane Austen?” 

“Oh fuck off Dex, she’s a good writer.”

“That’s not what I thought when I fell asleep in English class,” Dex flares, remembering the thrum of fury that went though his ivory-green veins that quickly turns into frustration as he pours over the quotes again, trying to write up his essay in the school library after hours, reading up on sparknotes as he  _ still  _ doesn’t understand.

“You just don’t understand that—“

“Guys!” Chowder pipes, “I’m trying to learn something here, so can you please just  _ chill.” _

“It’s  _ chill _ ,” Nursey waves his other hand that’s free in a gesture, pressing his lips into a thin line. Dex rolls his eyes.

“S’awesome,” Chowder replies. Nursey gets another flash card. Chowder reads it out to him. Nursey sits on the kitchen table, letting his hands run through the bench like he’s trying to brush the dust from the memories left here. When he looks at the two of them he realises that this will be a casual situation, three of them often meeting up in the middle of the night. Perhaps from

Chowder’s nerves or Dex’s inability to sleep with the restless thoughts that storm his mind or Nursey’s caffeine addiction.

This is how three of them will find themselves, they’ll cross paths in the middle of the night. He can already predict the next time they’ll meet, either Nursey struggling over his poem while Dex walks in to get a drink, with Chowder keeping him company.

Slowly the words blur together and he starts to find himself back at his school’s computer library. His hands trembling as he goes to spark notes to find the symbolism of the character, almost crying as voices from the other table fill the air. Too much noise. Too much distraction as frustrated tears prick his eyes. It’s why he likes maths or coding subjects in his school. He likes putting programs and algorithms, churning out codes and patterns thet he can observe. It’s neat and simple, something he can observe instead of something so  _ abstract. _

But after that he finds himself pouring over magical words with brimming forest and otherworldly elements. An escape, something he can bury himself and pretend that sometimes mommy and daddy yell at each other too loud. 

Dex groans, way too tired to deal with this shit. Looking at Nursey reminds him of his freshman year, frustrating. He goes to walk but he’s stopped because—

—Nursey has gotten a grip on his wrist. It’s tight. Digging into his flesh.

“Hang on Pointerdexter,” he vaults over the bench, Chowder is going over his notes, “don’t leave yet without me.”

“What do you want?” Dex huffs, voice droopy.

“Just follow me dude it’s not gonna take that long, Nursey hums, and he’s off as he takes the stairs in two. Dex follows, quieter this time. There’s something about how Nursey moves, quick, buoyant, swift. Something akin to water, quick to change and smooth, fast. Dex thinks he’s rock, a cliff, an unmovable mountain that’s rooted itself deep into the plates of the earth. He’s careful and he leans against the doorframe when Nursey throws the door open.

He hasn’t seen his ex-room before. It’s still the same room. Nursey kept the bunk bed. That’s… strange. There’s less underwear and clothes strewn around the desk is littered with Chinese takeout and scrunched up papers. The window is open, carrying the sudden breeze of cold air that burns the back of his throat when he inhales.

Dex feels… weird. Going over memories of him

and Nursey mucking around. He finds himself wanting to turn the sands of time, go back to when him

and Nursey were laughing over the stupid movies that they’ve watched late into the night, laughter so loud that it almost woke up the entire house. But it was worthed, he remembers how the euphoria lingered on their cheeks with warmth.

He doesn’t realise that Nursey is going through his closet, throwing clothes over his shoulder as it piles behind him. Dex has never seen that many clothes before.

“What is it Nurse?”

“It’s your sweater that you left behind,” Chowder groggily says behind him. When Dex turns around 

He’s already gone. Dex buries his face into his hands and sighs.

“Nursey you don’t have to—“

“—shut up,” he comments, before sighing a relief as he tosses the sweater at him. It’s the ugly Christmas sweater that he bought, with an ugly looking deer and an  _ even  _ uglier pattern of greens and reds. It looks like it’s falling apart at the seams.

“Nursey this is just junk…”

“But,” he crosses the room, “it’s your—“ Nursey jabs his finger into Dex’s chest, “—sweater. It’s nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yep?” 

“You’re fucking joking me is this some kind of weird, prank that you’re doing?” Dex crosses his arms, something he gets defensive or when he’s talking to Nursey.

“What?” Nursey knits his eyebrows, “dude… no.”

“Whatever. See you tommorow,” Dex chuckles, but something is off within Nursey’s face. He quickly hushes him out of his room and within a second later he stands there out of the door, light seeping through Nursey’s door. A pit has opened inside his chest and it grows, dragging him down as he makes his way to his room, while he collapses to the bed.

—

When he wakes up, Chowder is already gone. From Louis’s comments, he says that:  _ ‘he’s gone to his girlfriend's dorm to mentally prepare himself before the oral presentation. Chowder uses the excuse that it’s for feminism. What does that mean?’ _

Dex just shrugs his shoulder.

However, through the visits of Lardo and Shitty to give them good luck on their first game of their season, and through Shitty’s five minute conversation about how Jack and Bitty sends their ‘vibes’ he feels his phone vibrate in his pockets.

He checks the message.

And a massive hole is forming inside his stomach, twisting and turning, threatening to swallow him whole and turn back into that little boy in his hometown.

_ Mum: you have to come here over the break, no excuses. _

“You okay?” Shitty asks.

Dex nods, politely and curtly. Something he only does with his mum


	4. distance between us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk I’ve been on a roll lately 
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated

He doesn’t let the text worm it’s way into his brain. He doesn’t let it fester like a disease, taking up all of his thoughts. No time for that. It’s their first game of the season, and the fact that it’s  _ away  _ only puts more pressure on himself. There’s a growing headache that Dex doesn’t know if it’s coming from Devy’s loud chatter or Nursey’s mumbling.

The bus is squeezed and tight, he has to keep his one leg out on the walkway to sit properly. Nursey has the window seat, he looks surprisingly calm. When they go into a tunnel the yellow hues of the light comes in through the window, his eyelashes catch glimpses of the light and his skin is washed in a soft hue of deep sepia. Dex can see his reflection on the window, and he’s beginning to pick up things that Nursey does.

He likes how his hair is a mess of soft curls, and Nursey  _ hates  _ how it looks so he covers it up with his beanie. His eyes are focused, eyebrows tightening as he stares at the blurs of light and cars, of mere strangers going about their day. He has his earbuds in, the fancy bluetooth ones and he can hear a little bit of what he’s listening to.

He’s heard of him before, Nursey talks about his songs a lot. Sufjan Stevens. 

Nursey catches a glimpse of him staring, he takes his earbuds on and nudges him in the shoulder, “what’s up?” He mumbles.

“Nothin’  _ Derek _ ,” he says, putting emphasis on his name. He doesn’t get a reaction out of him, instead Nursey shifts in on his seat, a smile cracking from his lips.

“You know what’s up?”

“What?” 

In the silence, Louis is talking to Chowder about Swedish music.

“The sky.”

“Oh fuck off Nursey,” Dex elbows him in the chest a little too  _ harsh  _ that has him worried whether he hurt him, he didn’t, because Dex is laughing so hard that it fills the bus.

“You’re a dichead, Nursey,” Dex says, looking at him.

“What? It’s funny,” Nursey says after a few seconds, the giddiness still lingering in his voice. Dex crosses his arm, despite knowing how ridiculous he’s acting, “no need to fuss about it.”

His mind carries him back to when he was still living in his hometown, the smell of canned foods and sodium filling the air as his brother cracks another joke. He’s light of the family, bursting the sad silences with his  _ stupid  _ jokes that shouldn’t be funny but it makes him laugh anyway, giggles filling up the table as it takes a while to die down.

Nursey sighs, then says, “you good bro?”

“Fine.”   
  


Nursey rolls his eyes, taking one of his earbuds off and handing it to him, “here, take one.”   
  


“I don’t need your--”   
  


“-- _ William Pointerdexter _ you were shaking and asked the coach about three times whether we had everything before we left.”

“I wanted to make sure if things were sorted,” Dex says.

“Yeah, sure.” Nursey nudges him softly again, it’s sort of way their communication, little touches and nudges, Dex thinks he likes it, “I don’t want my  _ captain  _ being all stressed, come on, take one.”

Dex concedes, Nursey returns to staring out of the window. When they emerge from the tunnel they’re driving on the highway, nothing out here but roads and miles and miles of fields bathing in the silver moonlight. Dex lets the music carry him, it’s something he wouldn’t listen to. He thinks he likes it.

“What song is this?” Dex asks.

“Run away with me,” Nursey mumbles, “I haven’t listened to this album yet so.”

In the bus, he lets the shallow beat of electric beat and the singing soft like quilt, something akin to a whisper, as if he’s whispering to his lover to run away with him and into the bright light. Dex closes his eyes, slowly the voices from Whiskey’s grumling and Devy’s giggling is tuned out into white noise.

But just as he’s about to fall asleep he feels a blanket on him.

—

Dex is panicking on the inside, but on the outside he has a calm and steady act as he reassures Chowder that he’s going to be fine as a goalie. They’ve looked over the videos of the team, most of them going over powerful but inaccurate slapshots. They thrive in chaos and messes, but outside any of that they falterand crumble. That’s how they got third place last year, making a mess out in the field. They were a real pain last year.

Dex breathes in and out.

He talks to the team about communication and keeping a steady face, keeping a clear head and keeping things in order. One slip up and things could go ugly and messy and it’ll quickly fall into their opponents hands, slipping into chaos. They can’t recover from that.

Dex sighs, in and out. With his helmet under his arm, he feels Nursey ruffle his hair as he winks at him and says, “don’t let me down.”

Dex rolls his eyes.

Within a flash of a moment and thirty minutes later they’re still on the ice, neither of them scoring. They’re playing a slow game, and they’re slowly gaining upper ground. Nursey and Dex play defense on the wing, and they move and match each other’s steps without having to look at each other. His hands shake when he stares out into the crowd, some out of their seat and cheering. All eyes on them, waiting for a slip up. Dex grips his stick tighter.

On the other side of the field, he sees a small slip up that quickly erupts into utter chaos. One of the best players in the enemy team has the puck, leaving behind deep cuts on the ice as he skates. Dex grits his teeth, spares a glance towards Nursey. It feels like time halts to a stop, and it’s just them in the ice, practising, see who could steal the puck from one another.

Nursey’s eyes glint with something he can’t quite read. If he was close, he would say to Dex, “ready?” with a smile.

He spares a soft smile at Nursey. He returns it. 

Nursey skates closer to Chowder who’s already getting ready to block the puck while Dex skates forwards, looping behind the player. He gets ready to set up the slapshot and—

—Nursey steals it quickly, then passes it to Dex by bouncing off the wall, moving with such speed that the enemy team couldn’t stop it. Dex gets it, moving with such ease and adrenaline. He gets a quick glance towards Whiskey and he nods at him. A quick pass he hands the puck to Whiskey, with Devy protecting him from his flank.

He watches at Whiskey transform into someone else, something similar to Jack but with more scowling and more angsting. Whiskey comes undone in the ice and shows up, quick with his stick handling and moving so fast that they can’t keep up. He finds himself staring at them, seeing them click together even though theyre polar opposites. It’s like water clashing against fire, watching the steam curl and twist all around them

They win by a landslide, 2-0. He feels Nursey hugging him so tightly, patting him on the back with both of their helmets off. Nursey digs himself deep into the crook of his shoulders, and they fit like puzzle pieces that have waited for so long to come together. Dex just stands there, confused while he watches Whiskey struggle to do a fist bump with Devy. 

“Nice defense Pointerdexter,” Nursey hums. 

Dex feels this  _ strange  _ twist in his chest, slowly unraveling and coming undone. But it quickly squeezes and tenses when Chowder comes like a wrecking ball and hugs the two of them tightly, with Chowder in the middle. It’s gross, they smell of sweat, ice and the disgusting musky smell of axe deodorant that Dex uses. Chowder’s smile is bright and big, Nursey’s is soft while his is relaxed.

They post for the photo and Dex feels content, his heart full of warmth.

They celebrate in the nearest local bar, all varnished wood and creaking floorboards as they sit at a huge table. It smells of beer, but also the undertow of something soft, like pine or grass. He can’t tell whether it’s the cologne that Nursey’s wearing or if it’s from the bar itself. It doesn’t matter, they settle into a haze of laziness and laughter, air filling up with conversations and highlights, half full glasses leaving behind a mark of a circle on the coasters. Devy is talking to Whiskey about how well he played, patting him on the back as he smiles when he takes a drink. They never get their eyes off each other, it’s strange. It’s like they have this weird bubble that they exist in. Completely seperate from everyone else.

Meanwhile Chowder is being ushered into the bathroom by Tango, who doesn’t look too good after two drinks. Everything is good. Really  _ good _ . Next to him Nursey is texting someone and he’s smiling, taking a swig of his beer that he hasn’t touched in a while. In the lazy light, his skin is soft and the colour like the settled sea in the night, hair a bit messy and sweaty and he’s thrown on a Samwell hoodie on. 

Dex downs his cup and stands up. He likes Haus parties and standing on a corner, watching while holding a red cup, occasionally playing beer pong (and taking photos of Nursey on the rooftop because someone forgot to go on Nursey patrol). He’s content with them. But not like  _ this  _ out in the open because he’s awkward, not knowing how to spark up conversations. It’s always been like that when he was going, that’s why all his crushes in high school  _ stayed  _ crushes. The awkward ginger with big ears can’t get anyone to talk to.

He steps out into the icy wind. The light from the inside spills into the wet asphalt. it has a blue haze that Dex can’t keep his eyes off. He sits on the curb, under the streetlight that flickers with its yellow hue and pulls out a cigarette and a lighter.

He smokes, sometimes anyways. His promises to not be what his dad  _ is _ , a smoker and an alcoholic, the man full of so much anger that it split the family apart. But little bits of him appeared anyway, so Dex lets some through, even though he  _ swore  _ to himself that he won’t be like his dad. He lets it out through smoking. He lights it, feeling his body relax as he puffs out grey smoke as it curls and twists until it’s gone. He feels at peace. Reminding him of after hockey games when he hung out with his friend. The boy of that he cannot remember any longer, another face.

He really should’ve tried to remember him better. Because he introduced him to smoking and beer, a quiet kid that sometimes shapes into a rebel into the night when he wins a hockey game and sneaks into his window. 

He feels his phone vibrate. When he pulls it out he sees that it’s from Bitty calling him for a facetime.

He answers it, “Bitty? What’s up?”

“I’ve heard about the news,” Bitty says, he can hear the smile on his voice, “Oh my god! I can’t believe you beat them, they really messed us up in the early season last year.”

“Yeah... I guess so,” Dex says, his tone faltering, but he quickly picks it up after his pause, “Whiskey is really stepping it up, and he’s opening up just a little bit more I think.”

“How about the new guy to the team, Devy?”

“Oh he’s amazing!” Dex shifts his position, tapping his shoe on the asphalt, “he’s one of the only guys that can really keep up with Whiskey. He reminds me of Jack a little bit, and he’s kinda getting along with Whiskey.”

“Are they like you and Nursey when they were freshmen?”

“Kinda, but like with less arguing. Usually Devy will try to talk to Whiskey and make up some jokes and Whiskey will just ignore him, but they do  _ really  _ well in the ice… it’s crazy. Anyways, how are you and Jack? When are you guys dropping by for a visit.”   
  


And they settle into a conversation, it’s easy going and Dex just finds himself listening and sometimes nodding and laughing along with the stories that Bitty tells. He lights up like the sun, each word reflecting the giddiness in his voice, the joy when he talks about Jack and it goes on and on. Dex laughs when he tells about the story of how Jack manages to mess up a simple banana bread recipe. Dex nods when he talks about him and Jack’s story, it was freshmen. It was full of scowls and rolling eyes, and making it up through baking pies.

Then, there’s this  _ feeling  _ in his chest that gnaws on him like he’s missing a piece, a vital thing. Like he’s missing a heart, a liver, a muscle. A  _ hole _ , maybe, that’s inside his chest and it’s there, waiting to be filled. He can’t quite put his finger on it, it quickly melts away when he gets back to the bar when the coach announces that snow on the road is too slippery to drive in the middle of the night.

Oh, and he has to share a room with Nursey.

“What do you mean I’m sharing a room with…” Dex pauses, putting his hands on his head and interlocking his fingers, “ _ him _ , are you sure there’s no more rooms in the motel? Can’t we just drive another mile or two to look for the other one?”

The coach shakes his head at him. Bully pats him in the back.

Dex grumbles, Nursey laughs at him and says, “dude, it’s  _ chill _ .”

“I’m not sleeping in the same room as you—”

“—We’re sharing a bed too, Pointerdexter—

“—Oh fuck  _ off _ , I’m not going back to Junior year.”

Nursey rolls his eyes as they board the bus, the motel only five minutes away, “stop overreacting dude it’s fine.”

Behind them Chowder is still a little woozy, having to use the chair to steady himself as he sits down on the chair. Whiskey didn’t drink, Devy is a little tipsy and he’s talking to Whiskey about whatever he’s talking about. 

“It’s  _ not  _ fine,” Dex sits down next to Nursey, “you’re… gross and leave your fucking underwear everywhere.”

Nursey flips him off and he reeks of booze. Dex sighs and melts onto his chair, the energy to argue leaving his body. 

—

When they walk into the motel room, Nursey sets the keys on the bedside table, along with some pills and a bottle of water. He claimed the left side without even telling  _ him _ . Dex is gonna gonna kill him one day.

The room smells of strong cleaning products, with the weak scent of flowers and strawberries trying to overtake the smell. Creme white walls with duplicated paintings hanging next to the door, the carpet beneath his feet is a soft, cool brown. The lights above them wash the room in a sickly, yellow light.

It’s a motel, yet it kicks off memories of having to spend days in motels when they travel to relatives. He hated it.

Dex takes off the white blankets and pillows onto the ground, sighing.

  
“Dude?” Nursey puts his bag near the door where Dex’s bag is, “what the fuck are you doing?”

“You think they wash these?” Dex opens the closet, fishing out a new pillow, he frowns when he doesn’t find a banket, “don’t trust hotel blankets and pillows.”

“Not like I’m gonna die,” Nursey groans, he picks up the pillow and blanket from the ground, Dex frowns, throwing the pillow at his side of his bed which faces the window, “stop overreacting.”

“I got a  _ rash _ from sleeping at a hotel bed once.”

“So?”

“ _ So? _ Nursey what the fuck.”

Within the three second silence, Dex counts the distance between them. Too large, and the atmosphere between them oozes of animosity and annoyance, it’s a weak reflection of what they once were during their freshman years. He doesn’t understand, they were doing fine out in the ice, they  _ clicked  _ so well like clockwork. Now they’re back to… whatever this  _ is. _

Something  _ shifts  _ inside him, he ignores it by taking his pillow and his jacket while he mumbles, “I'm sleeping in the bathtub,” as he goes to take his toothbrush and toothpaste from his bag. He goes inside the bathroom and locks it behind him.

The light doesn’t have the yellow hue that it normally has, it’s washing the floral tiles on the wall and towels that probably haven’t been washed in a while in porcelain light and the ceiling has this weird black spot. The bathtub looks cozy enough, he throws the pillow along with his grey hoodie inside and brushes his teeth quickly, taking off his shoes before he steps into the bathtub.

He draws the curtains closed, the light coming through the thin curtain bathing the tiled walls and his skin in a softer light, turning the freckles on his cheeks and arms into something that’s golden, like the sparkling stars were plucked out from the very night sky and placed into his skin. He throws the jacket over himself and gets to a comfortable position and closes his eyes.

He’s met with blackness, but sleep doesn’t come.

He should be  _ sleeping _ , Dex finds the humming of the heater to be soothing, the pillow is soft and all the energy from him is gone. He’s  _ exhausted _ , limbs and muscles aching from the match. He twists and turns, groaning. Dex considers texting Bitty, but realises that it’s late into the night.

He’s asleep, within the arms of Jack.

He finds himself looking at the text from his mum, telling him to come home during the break which is just a month or two away. It’s well into the future, to him though it feels like it’s just around the corner. He scrolls through the past text, and a  _ pang  _ echoes all around him.  _ Good Luck! You forgot your lunch at home! We’re having sushi for dinner (got some tips) _

It’s a haunting feeling that settles inside him, then next to that is the overwhelming black hole that is  _ loneliness  _ that fills and fills until it takes over him. He finds himself yearning for a body next to him, that press of touch against his skin, warmth that eminates from the both of them, someone holding his hand while they sleep away their worries.

The walls are thin, and he can hear Nursey softly snoring. Dex swallows his pride and turns off the light when he steps into the bedroom. The lights are off, but the light comes in from the window which is a mix of a nearby lamppost and the moonlight. In the darkness, he can see the outline of his body, his face, the messy curls of his hair and the curve of his nose..

He has his arm under his pillow while his other in front of him, and he looks like he’s trying to make himself small, all curled up in a bundle of blankets with his skin a beautiful soft but deep shade of brown, kissed by moonlight and it gives it a soft haze of blue. He might not be curled up next to Nursey, because they’re not like  _ that _ , they’re friends, or frenemies. He thinks. And he’s straight. Like how he didn’t think of guys when he looked at girls. Or how the image of scruff against his chin didn’t appear when he got his first kiss at 17 behind the school with a sweet girl named Samantha.

He settles into his side, a little awkward as he cringes when the bed creaks. Nursey doesn’t stir awake, he slumbers like a sleeping giant. Nursey has his back facing him, and he took off his T-shirt. He can see how his back is smooth, with bits of imperfections like tiny bumps and marks of red from the match. He looks like he’s painted, and he isn’t real, too  _ imperfectly perfect  _ to exist. He’s an enigma, made of memories and soft brown skin. The slope of the crook of his shoulder. The bumps of his spine. The shifting of his body when he breathes in and out. Every part of him is made to perfection, as if a sculpture took their time chiselling him out of hard marble to turn him into something so  _ soft _ .

Dex wants to move closer.

“Hey Nursey?” He says, barely above a whisper, afraid that if he says it any louder he’ll break the magic and instead taint the words, “I’m sorry.”

_ I’m sorry _ .

Nothing specific. Just.... sorry.

He doesn’t move closer, he stays at his spot and stares at the distance between them. A few inches turns into the giant lake that freezes over at his hometown during the winter. If he closes the distance, the skates will fail on him and he’ll fall into the icy waters. Too terrifying. It’s best to stay at his side.

He falls asleep within five minutes. 

—

When he wakes up he’s all groggy and gross, his mouth dry and smelling of something that’s died inside. He rolls over to see Nursey already gone, in the bathroom as he hums to himself. In the sunlight at ten am his freckles looks like specks of gold, he catches a glimpse of it on his phone camera when he gets a Snapchat from Chowder telling him to move it.

“Yo, Pointerdexter,” he looks up to see Nursey standing on the doorframe of the bathroom, his hoodie on and a lazy smile on his face, there’s a small bit of toothpaste under his lips that Dex wants to wipe off, “can’t believe you like  _ don’t  _ snore at all.”

Dex throws a pillow at him.

They pile into the bus thirty minutes in and load the bags in. Everyone's a little hung over and Dex is handing out water and pills. When the topic of  _ food _ comes Nursey’s mouth the bus falls into a cascades of  _ pleases  _ and  _ I’m so hungry _ .

Which is how they find themselves outside a McDonald’s, just on the edge of the highway. When Dex steps inside with Nursey he catches how he nudges him on the shoulder, handing him the hundred dollar bill that feels somewhat  _ illegal  _ to hold. Fast food was a luxury for him usually, a rare occasion as he buys the dollar meal from his spare change back at his cafe job.

“What’s wrong Dex, cat for your tongue?” He flashes his usual smile at him. Dex just rolls his eyes at him. They line up, Dex tries to stop himself from realising how close they are. Shoulders pressing, hands an inch apart. It’s weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dex be like ‘queer yearning but doesn’t realise that he’s queer yearning’


	5. yearning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY FOR KINDA FORGETTTING ABOUT THIS FIC I WAS FOCUSED ON OTHER PROJECTS
> 
> ok now the the plot is beggining to pick up ive kidna been realising that i'm sorta not sticking to dex's personality? i want this fic to be as realistic as possible to be like an 'what if nurseydex happens during their senior year' so in the future chapters hes gonna be more... dex i guess? idk.
> 
> ALSO TO MAKE UP FOR THE LOST TIME THIS IS A DOUBLE CHATPER UPDATE!!!
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated

“I fucking hate slapshots,” Dex mumbles under his breath. Nursey has his usual smile on in their usual after-school practise, but the way he moves across the ice is shaky, full of haste even though there’s no one else in the ice but them. He’s usually laid back and chill, and Dex can’t shake the feeling that there’s something off with Nursey.

They all line up the pucks, moving the cones on the ice for their movement. Hockey requires speed and quick thinking, adding twists and turns and having to go around the ice helps. Nursey goes first. Dex leans against the gate (he made sure it’s secured) with the timer in his hands.

“3.”

Nursey puts his foot back.

“2.”

He draws out a shaky breath.

“1.”   
  
Nursey moves faster than before, with ice skidding past him. He’s practically running on the ice, his hands gripping the stick as he skates around the cones within a swift second. Dex can see that his eyes are somewhere else though, in another world as lines up for the slapshot.

Nursey curses when he misses a goal.

“Yo dude,” Dex skates over to him, stopping the timer and shoving the stopwatch into his pockets, “the fuck’s happening.”   
  


He knows when something is up, because they know enough of each other to know when a shift’s changes. Dex tries to look calm, pressing his lips into a soft smile and taking off his helmet to reveal his hair that glows in the sunlight.

“Your hair looks like it’s on fire, Pointerdexter,” Nursey fishes his phone out of his pockets, taking off his helmet.

“Is something… wrong?”

“Can we just hurry this up, I gotta go in like thirty minutes.”

  
“Thirty?” Dex huffs, losing a little bit of himself, he can’t help it, “practise isn’t more important than whatever  _ you’re  _ doing?”

“It’s chill, Dex,” Nursey types out something on his phone.

“Then what’s more important than what—”

  
“—Dude I have a hookup.”   
  
“ _ Oh _ .”

“And I really don’t wanna be all fucking sweaty, and it’s been a while so  _ jesus  _ just let me off the hook this once  _ captain _ ,” Nursey mumbles, though there’s a bit off bite in his usual calm and  _ chill _ voice. 

“Okay.”

“Oh and it’s with a guy.”

“ _ Oh _ , cool.”

Dex feels this unusual feeling to strap Nursey down to his skates and never let him leave. He wants him here, because they need to practise more before their future games. The feeling mixes with jealousy, and he shoves it all the way down to the bottom of the well before he can pull it apart and see what it reveals.

“Nursey we can’t lose the lead we have on the teams, you can’t just go on hookups.”   
  


“Oh get off my ass, I haven’t gone on a hookup in a while.”

Nursey starts to skate to get the cones, Dex rolls his eyes and starts to help him. 

“So…”

Nursey sighs, “I know what you’re gonna ask. I’m bi, I’ve done hookups with girls and guys and everyone in between. I don’t  _ do  _ relationships because it’s not my type of thing.”

The feeling unearths once again, and he catches a glimpse of his eyes. In the soft, late afternoon sunlight that comes through the giant, dusty windows. Usually Nursey’s eyes are soft, grey skies that control when the thunder strikes, rolling over and making comfortable days inside drinking earl grey. But in the sunlight, it transforms into something else. A deep, mossy green. If he could, and if Nursey would—

He stops himself and shakes his head, “Did you come out to Shitty before this?”

Nursey picks up a cone, “nah, not really. Everyone kinda, vaguely, sorta knows that I’m not straight so.”

“I don’t know that you weren't straight.”   
  


“You should’ve paid better attention man, I was blasting  _ Sweater weather  _ and  _ Chanel _ all the time.”   
  


“What?”

Nursey chuckles, taking another cone as Dex does the time. Time fills, and they spend their next minute getting the cones. When they step out of the ice Dex lightly shoves him out of humour, and they settle into their usual banter. Dex thinks he puts more bite into him that he didn’t mean to do, and Nursey looks a bit tired and restless. Nursey frowns at himself when he steps outside

Dex can’t really read people very well, so he just sighs and throws it off. Nursey’s probably just worried about his hookup. It takes him an hour to realise that Nursey just came out to him. Which distracts him from coding projects. He really  _ should  _ stop getting distracted, his grade went down by 5% because of it.

—

**_William Pointerdexter_ **

_ Did you know that nursey’s bi? _

**_Bitty_ **

_ No _

_ I knew that he wasn’t like straight _

_ Do we need to have a discussion on sexualities again Dex? _

**_William Pointerdexter_ **

_ No  _

_ Everyone knew in the team that he wasn’t straight besides me? _

**_Bitty_ **

_ Yeah _

**_William Pointerdexter_ **

_ … _

_ I gtg _

—

When Dex gets back at the Haus, the sweet smell of coconut hangs in the air. He puts his bag of hockey gear by the door and puts his hands into his pockets when he walks into the kitchen. He’s met with Chowder sitting on the counter, with Denice chewing with a smile as Louis snacks on whatever Devy made, going over his music notes while humming notes.

“Yo, Dex,” Devy gets a knife from the drawer, cutting out squares and putting into a plate, “want some?”

“Oh… w-what is it?”

“My mum sent me this recipe for  _ bico  _ which is this sweet, sticky rice cake. I pulled them out to be my test subject just in case.”

“You could’ve poisoned us,” Chowder comments, Devy rolls his eyes with no malice.

Dex stares at the scene, he finds himself accidentally picturing Bitty in the kitchen. He blinks, and he catches small windows of his house back  _ home _ . Smelling of strawberries and caramel as his older brother tries out new pie recipes, sometimes exploding and his laughter drowning out the tension between his parents.

He takes a bite of the rice cake, gleaming brown. It tastes normal, sweet and sticky but there’s something  _ in  _ there that reminds him of warmth, blooming. Like it’s baked with love, with careful hands and humming in the kitchen. Footsteps behind him breaks him from his thoughts, he looks behind him and sees Whiskey with his hoodie drawn up, looking tired.

“Whiskey!” Devy pipes, his joy bouncing all over the walls, “I made something, want some?”

Dex watches as Whiskey steps into the kitchen, looking a bit overwhelmed like walking into a sea of people, stepping into the mic and presenting a speech. 

“Okay…”

Devy shoves him a small plate, Dex scrolls through the group chat but when he looks up again he sees how Whiskey’s face glints with personality for a mere second. It looks like warmth, breathing life into his lungs and bringing out the red of his eyes. It’s quickly covered up with a scowl.

“Thanks man,” Whiskey says, “I-I gotta go, I have homework due,” he runs up the stairs.

“Anytime,” Devy yells, waving at him with all of his body, going on his toes and smiling. He doesn’t get back, but he still smiles and waves. He lets out a shaky laugh, turns to Dex and says, “hey Dex.”

“Yeah?”   
  


“Why… is he like that?” Dex catches how his voice changes, softer, quieter, an animal trying to make sense of the storming clouds or a giant creature, “I don’t get him.”

Dex is awkward and is an idiot at this, but he sees how his eyebrows furrows, biting his fingernail as he rocks on his heels before going back to get another piece of  _ bico _ . It reminds him of himself, just a little bit. 

“I don’t know what he’s been through,” Dex starts, suddenly realising his voice isn’t faltering he continues, “a-and I don’t think I can comprehend what he’s been through. No one can. Not even Bitty.”

“No one?” Devy chuckles, “that’s crazy. He talks with Denice and Tango.”   
  


“No… dude,  _ no one  _ can get through to him. Not even me. Only you can.”

Devy leans against the counter, putting down his plate as he stares out into the window, drumming his fingers against his palm, “That’s good… I want to be there for him,” his lips curls into a soft smile, face lighting up like the sun, “ _ really _ .”

“You’re the only one that can really keep up with him.”

“Got it, captain.”

Something thrums inside Dex, maybe it’s  _ pride _ .

—

Dex needs to stop waking up at ungodly hours. He groggily puts on a random hoodie in the dark, his feet shocked against the cold of the floor (why did Denice have to make him pull out the carpet on the floor). Throwing open the door he almost bumps into the washing machine, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness.

He’s met with the sound of laughter, and the sound of muffled yelling that seeps through the thin walls of the Haus. He’s reminded of the singing of Bitty, the groaning from Nursey, the shouting from Shitty all spilling through the walls. They really should invest in better insulating. 

The bare wood against his feet gives him a sense of comfort of the tree that he climbed when he was just eight. Dex almost fell, but he just laughed it off and said it was fine, that his strength will be fine. Sleeves rolled up, cheeks flushed with sunburn, hair messy from the strong wind. He remembers how he felt like a god back then, reaching up to the sky at the very top as the tree bark bit against his hands.

His brother didn’t tell. They were good like that.

When he climbs up the stairs he notices the blue light that spills from the living room, and hears a voice. It’s Chowder, cheering softly while he snacks on a bag of chips, the loud crinkling of the bag is ear-splitting and Dex has to bite down on his tongue. But he hears something at the upper floor, shuffling, the sound of a window opening then an  _ oomph _ .

It’s coming from Nursey’s room.

Dex rolls his eyes and walks up the stairs. When he opens the door he’s met with Nursey on the floor, groaning. Dex stands there, confused while he scratches the back of his head, his ginger hair soft from the shampoo and conditioner that Nursey made him buy. Nursey’s cheek is pressed against the floor, and he has his sweats and hoodie on.

“Dude? What the fuck.”

“It’s  _ chill _ , Dex.”

He’s actually gonna kill him, “what the fuck!  _ What the fuck! _ ” He half-screams-half-yells, his fists curling into a ball, knuckles going white, “did you just climb the window? You could've gotten hurt? And so close to our games as well?”

“Dex…”   
  


Dex sighs, on the beanbag near the door, “I can’t deal with you right now, jesus. You don’t think clearly.”   
  


In the seconds that it takes for Nursey to get up, stretching his arm with his teeth showing Dex reminds himself of freshman year. All the bickering and the argument, telling Nursey to stop being so lax and to take the games seriously while he’s responded with a shrug. He thinks that a small part of him wants that carelessness. Like Nursey, how he can do flings and hookups and never look into their eyes and to fall in love.

Dex can’t do that. He’s too busy. He might also fall in love with his hookups, imagining different realities of dancing in the kitchen and waking up all groggy and gross but not caring and smothering each other in kisses. 

But love… love can falter.

Dex shakes his and sighs.

“I didn’t want to do the walk of shame, dude,” Nursey says, sitting on his bed, the  _ top  _ bunk. He’s acting like Dex still lives in this room, still sleeps in the bottom bunk, still does his coding on the desk and still grumbles when Nursey’s too loud. 

It’s strange.

“Plus also my butt hurts.”

“Fucking gross,” Dex says, Nursey just laughs.

A beat of silence, then another. They let their eyes go—Dex looking at him while Nursey looking at his feet dangling—and their body shifting, small changes here and there, to Dex fiddling with his hands and Nursey chewing on his lower lip.

Then, Nursey breaks the silence with, “is Chowder downstairs?”

“Yeah, he’s watching one of Jack’s matches.”

“Oh sick.” and he jumps to the ground, “I’m watching, you coming?”

Dex stands up, his body hesitates for a second to step out of the room. It  _ isn’t  _ his room anymore, but he finds himself staring and staring. At the walls. On the floor. At his empty bed. It’s just the same as it once was, like a perfect picture of time frozen. He thinks, what if? What  _ if  _ he didn’t go to the basement, would anything change?

The thought drowns and he walks out of the room, tagging behind Nurse as they walk down the stairs. Walking into the living room Chowder has his laptop glowing in front of him, bathing his homework in it’s blue light. It looks like some weird  séance, sitting cross legged on the floor with all of the paper surrounding him in a circle.

Except that he’s abandoned his laptop and work, and he’s just staring at the TV screen.

“Chowder?” Dex sits next to him, bringing his knees close to his chest. Nursey walks over to the kitchen to make some coffee.

“Hey man.”

“What’s happening.”

“Uh… Jack almost punched someone but they’re doing good, have like ten minutes left in the game and they have a one point lead on the enemy team.”

“Sick.”

Dex notices Nursey’s humming, it’s so private that Dex thinks he shouldn’t be hearing it. He hums as if it’s early in the morning, with the lazy sunlight coming through the window and bathing everything it’s golden light. He turns back to the TV, and he catches Jack celebrating another goal by sliding across the ice with his hockey stick up in the air.

Chowder smiles, going on his phone to text Farmer. He hears footsteps behind him, seeing Nursey standing there with a cup of coffee. He looks soft in the light, a little tired, almost as if someone stripped him down to his very core. When he sits next to him he smiles as he takes a sip, his skin washed with brown skin taking in the blue light.

The game ends, and Jack is the MVP. He watches Nursey high five Chowder, then putting his middle finger up to the screen like a big  _ fuck you  _ to the Golden Gophers and their tweets at Jack. They almost wake up the whole house, and Dex has to shush them even though he’s being louder than the rest of them.

They text Bitty, and he responds with a photo of him driving wherever Jack is playing at.

Air fills with something that reminds him of the past, that all three of them are hanging out in the living room. They’ve done this thing before, waking up at weird hours during the past three years. He remembers the time that Dex was put on Nursey patrol, when the party dwindled and it was four in the morning. Chowder was there, brewing green tea while Nursey laid on the floor and complained about his head.

Their tiny celebration calms down as Chowder looks at his screen, smiling.

“Farmer just texted me  _ bi  _ the way,” Chowder chuckles, “wow I love her.”

“Oh my god we do travel in packs,” Nursey says next to him.

“S’awesome!”

Dex is so out of the loop that he gets up and sighs, not getting the joke as he stands up and stretches. He hears the faint sounds of Chowder gushing about his girlfriend, and something thrums in him and carves out a hole so deep that it leaves a hollow feeling inside him. He suddenly years to be back at his hometown, but not his house, no.

Back at the lake, where him and his friend used to go and drink beer and complain about their daily life. Everything was much simpler back then.

When he walks into the hallway he catches Whiskey out of his room, walking down the stairs. He looks tired, but not exhausted. He rubs his eyes as he fishes out his phone. Whiskey stops when he catches a glimpse of Dex.

“Err…” is all that Dex manages to say.

“Hey,” Whiskey strains out.

“W-where you headed?” Dex looks at his feet, he has his shoes on, “it’s really late.”   
  


“I was… I was just going to get some fresh air,” Whiskey says.

“Cool.”

“Cool.

  
Whiskey heads out of the front door and closes it behind him.

—

**_Nursey_ **

_ lol  _

**_Dex_ **

_ You saw that didn’t you? _

_ Dont think im cut out for this captain stuff _

**_Nursey_ **

_ Nah you’re doing fine _

_ Just need patience bro _

**_Dex_ **

_ Cool _

_ Wait is chowder bi as well? _

**_Nursey_ **

_ Yeahhh man _

_ He has a lean on boys _

_ Same as me _

**_Dex_ **

_ Oh cool _

**_Nursey_ **

_ Youre the token srt8 soz _


	6. leaving home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAA LOTS OF ANGST AND LOTS OF DUMB IDIOTS
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated

Dex remembers after the divorce there were a lot of silences. Him and his older brother, Jax, were split and torn. Jax was the bolder, stronger and older one, his idea to go to downtown in Maine was a quick distraction that helped to ease their mind. They took his car and drove for two hours, listening to overplayed pop songs that sounded staticky through the radio. The city was all neon lights and was alive at night, the two of them stared in awe as they pulled into the wet parking lot. 

  
Steam rose from chimneys which were from restaurants, distant dogs barked and there were so many people that they were overwhelmed so easily. They got their food, spoke awkwardly and quickly went back into the car and ate. Food like this felt like a luxury, and Dex was careful as he ate it, relishing how the noodles were soft and chewy in the sauce. They let the music fill the silence. They smiled at each other. They laughed as well.

His brother talked of big plans, something that relied on good grades and hands into the sky to reach for the stars. When Jax spoke, he spoke with confidence and there was this glint in his eyes. That he was gonna be someone _big_ with plans, make a name for himself and lit himself alive when he stepped into the spotlight.

But Dex felt jealous, he saw nothing more than to rot forever in his tiny home in his small world that he called home back then. He doesn’t now. Too broken. But his family of four and his relatives that towered over him, theri voices boomed as they spoke hatred and bigotry that Dex always felt uncomfortable and found himself in the bathroom, a mere child that wiped his tears away.

But if someone looked at them from the outside, they were just two brothers existing. But the both of them knew back then that this was just a split of distraction with a side of jealousy from Dex, and reality hit them hard and it all crumbled before them when they came back home with their stomachs full. Their mother laid broken on the floor, wet tears on her face with frizzy hair. The mother that Dex knew turned into someone who’s real, he saw her in another light.

And he thought that it’s terrifying to see love broken and twisted, that he should bite his tongue and turn harsh and rigid to _never_ feel that heartbreak. 

  
Dex sighs and throws the whole thought into the bin, no time for those thoughts. It’s near the end of the semester and all the games on the ice are starting to blur together. He finds himself scowling more, anger quietly brimming and more shouting. He’s getting better, _much_ better than freshman year. But he’s still the rough, ragged but awkward ginger that came from Ohio. 

But him and Nursey do click well together on the ice, even though Dex has to yell more and sometimes he storms off the ice to let anger out, and Chowder usually comes to just sit next to him in silence. His presence helps, Dex thinks. Their connection on the ice is making up for the somehow slippery and disjointed playing from Devy and Whiskey. He makes a mental note to talk to both of them and the coach (Bitty’s advice, he saw one of their games in person) before he steps into the kitchen.

He found that baking things somehow calms him down a little bit, takes all the stress and anger that bubbled underneath, stopped all the scowls and turned them into soft lines when he mixes the batter. Dex gets tray ready as he sees Devy stepping into the kitchen.

“Dex?”  
  
“What’s up?” He pours the banana bread batter into the tray, he should’ve let the banana overripe more.   
  


“I just… I can’t get along with Whiskey.”

Oh, they’re having this conversation right _now_? Dex isn’t ready and he hasn’t memorized what he should say to him, what sort of advice and things to say. He’s not like Bitty. He taps the rest of the batter into the tray and takes a deep breath, his shoulders awkwardly hunched.

“I don’t get it man,” Devy sighs, sitting on the counter, “we were doing so well but then shit got weird and we’re not like…”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

Dex shoves the banana bread into the oven and starts the timer, “I… don’t know what’s up with him either,” it’s true, Whiskey usually avoids him and Devy is up in his room all the time, “thought you would know what’s up with him.”

“Dude, you’re like the worst at advice,” Devy sighs, taking out his phone. Dex feels his nails digging into his chest, annoyance mixing in with melancholy flares up inside him. He’s sorry; that he doesn’t know his members well enough. He’s sorry; that he can’t be the ‘good’ leader that everyone wants him to be.

He’s sorry..

“I just, I don’t know,” Dex says, relaxing his knuckles, he _refuses_ to embody his dad, turning into loud shouting and fury, “he’s not really good at words, kinda like me,” he awkwardly laughs, “so just…. Kinda...just have patience with him.”

Devy doesn’t say anything for a few moments, before he says, “wait, that kinda makes sense. Thanks Dexy.”

“Don’t call me Dexy,” that’s what Jax calls him, it’s a reserved name.

Dex leans against the counter, standing just next to Devy. He looks at him, black curly hair unkempt from final stress, he’s chewing on his lower lip as he texts something, “I’m just really worried about him, I don’t know. Why did god make me queer,” he sighs, his hands making that notion like his mum did with the rosary. Her chipped, painted nails moving onto the next wooden bead, her eyebrows furrowed.

“Sorry man,” Dex jokes, this is good to joke about, right? 

Devy just chuckles, “well, I’m sure you’re such a ladies man Dex.”

He doesn’t say or reply to anything. Relationships take too much time for him, too much effort and it’s such an intricate, brittle thing that could fall apart quickly. He’s seen wide mouth smiles turning into painful words telling them to come back, to _stay_. It’s too complex, so Dex thinks it’s best to step away from it.

After five seconds, Dex does reply with a chuckle that’s empty and airy, something he usually does. Out of the corner of his eyes he sees Nursey standing on the doorway, eating an apple. He took his time getting ready in the morning, ironed out his washed blue denim jeans, his blue champion sweater tucked in. He looks well rested, unlike Dex. He was awake with his three am thoughts, family and love often haunts him.

“Yooo queers _do_ travel in packs,” Nursey hums, he gets closer to Devy to do a fistbumb. It feels like he’s seeing something he’s not a part of. Devy and Nursey dissolve into a casual conversation about embarrassing hookup stories and how they figure out their identity while Dex takes the banana bread out after twenty minutes. The kitchen smells like a bakery now, vanilla and banana mixing together.

His brother knew one thing he could bake besides pies, banana bread. It’s an easy recipe that no one can mess up, they can use the overripe bananas that no one uses, him and his brother can make a mess in the kitchen, they can have this bubble of intimacy that no one can break.

He wonders how his brother is doing, when he left for Samwell his brother was still back at home, doing online school to work for his degree. He stayed home like some good, big brother that prioritized family before anything else. Guilt freezes him for a moment when he goes to cut the banana bread.

“Yo, you good Pointerdexter?” Nursey asks.

Dex has his back turned to him, he instead just scowls and continues to cut the bread.

—

They have a movie night that they set up, something to relax with after all the exams and late night assignment stress. He managed to get all B’s on his projects and exams, but in exchange were late night projects and lots and lots of headaches. Chowder’s getting the popcorn ready while Nursey is on a phone call. It was Dex’s idea, but he passed it to Chowder when they were in the kitchen so that no one would know that Dex wants to stretch this out, that he can’t deal with the fact that he’s going _home_.

Denice is yelling at Hops to get a move on while Dex throws the blankets and pillows onto the ground. They’ve got a bunch of other movies, from _Up_ all the way to the movie that Dex hasn’t seen, _Maurice_. Louis came back with Whiskey from their grocery run and all of the drinks and junk food collapses to the ground. 

Behind him Nursey stands there, laughing as the corner of his eyes crinkles. He can see how his face is lighting up like the Christmas tree that his brother and him used to set up, hues of reds and blues and yellows mixing in. It’s the type of laughter that’s breathy and chesty, and Nursey has to sit on the sofa to calm himself down.

Nursey wipes his tears away, he looks up at Dex, “dude, is there something on my face?”

Dex realises he’s been staring at him, he flips him off as he sits down on the ground. Nursey chuckles.

The first few of the movies are some of his comfort movies. Surrounded by people that he knows too well, with Nursey’s caffeine addiction and Chowder’s laughter he feels good, warm, _safe_ . Blurs of blue wash the living room as the river scene in _Spirited Away_ comes up, watching Haku and Chihiro stare at each other with such fondness. Colours explode onto the screen as the Balloons in _Up_ lifts up the house. He finds himself looking at Nursey, how he leans forward like a child, a soft smile on his lips.

_Maurice_ comes up after a few more movies, Whiskey already called a night in when he got up an hour ago. He doesn’t get the story, but there’s something enchanting and magical with two men laying in the field of grass. Something twists inside him, watching them press their bodies close while pressing soft kisses against each other.

He suppresses the thought deep down. Dex… Dex isn’t like _that_.

He excuses himself that he’s way too tired, stepping over Chowder—who’s softly snoring—in the process. The cold wooden floor shocks him as he makes his way down to his room in the basement, sighing. He can’t bring himself to turn on the light, the darkness clouds him and brings a sense of comfort, or perhaps he’s trapping himself.

He doesn’t know.

He’s pulled from his thoughts as he sees Nursey standing on the doorway, with what little light that comes from the basement window he can see his eyes full of worry, pursing his lips and his eyebrows furrowed.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Dude I was worried about you,” Nursey says, he turns on the light and takes a step into his space, “I _know_ you well enough that something’s wrong.”

“Jesus, nothing’s wrong.”

“Dex—”

“— _Don’t_ push me, we’re not freshmen anymore.”

Nursey takes another step into his space, Dex doesn’t know whether he wants him to take another or not. There’s a beat of silence. The inferno that resides within Dex starts to flare up. It’s full of rage, but he doesn’t want to become like his dad. Not him. He’s not _like_ him. He’s gritting his teeth and feeling his nails dig into his palm. This is _stupid_ to get angry about, he knows that.

But yet… he is. Because he’s Pointerdexter, the awkward ginger that has anger issues with scowls and barred teeth.

“Pointerdexter—”

“I don’t need you to be my _fucking_ therapist, Nursey,” he’s raising his voice now, he takes a step closer to Nursey and it’s like he’s getting closer to something he shouldn’t, it’s a cheap reflection of Icarus and the sun, “so cut it out.”

It’s weird how they can be getting along, but then bitterly arguing in the next hour.

Nursey opens his mouth to speak, yet his words fail him. His face shifts into sadness, then turning neutral as he puts his hands up and sighs. He takes a step back, it’s full of hesitation, forcing himself to leave.

“Okay, okay, _Chill_ dude,” Nursey says.

He takes another step back. 

And they hold each other's gaze, passing unsaid words too scared to say out loud.

He scowls his teeth as he fishes his earbuds and brushes past Nursey, taking the steps in two, feeling the footpath thud beneath him. Dex lets the pain course through his legs like he once did in track, losing himself in the sweat, the wind on his back and the loud blaring of old pop songs.

He loses himself in running. Forget. Forget about what happened a few minutes ago. Let it go. Let go Nursey’s eyes. His scruff. His skin. His laughter.

NurseyNurseyNurseyNursey—

When he comes back all sweaty and gross he doesn’t find Nursey in the living room, with everyone asleep as a Marvel movie plays. Dex doesn’t find him in his room in the basement, like he thought he would. His lack of presence looms his bedroom with an overwhelming sense of loneliness.

He falls asleep in his own sweaty clothes.

—

He set up the alarm so he wakes up early in the morning. He has his bags and clothes already packed and he doesn’t bother to shower or change. Dex needs to leave, he can’t bring himself to face Nursey. All the bags that he needs he gets it all in one trip, loading all of his things from the back of his rickety old truck.

He takes a second to look back at the Haus. It should be fine, he thinks. Whiskey and Devy are staying behind.

Everything in him doesn’t want to leave. But his hometown is calling for him, even though it’s full of hatred and bigotry. It’s just for a few weeks, and then he won’t have to go back again. It’s a mantra that he repeats over and over again as he speeds down on the highway, the sky slowly turning into an ocean of blue.

But Nursey somehow crawls in places he doesn’t expect, like when pulls over to a gas station to fill up and to get snacks. As he pays he freezes, looking down into his purchase. Pods and a bottle of sprite, Nursey’s favourite things in the world. 

“Would you like the receipt?” The cashier—who’s an acne ridden teenager—asks in a monotone voice.

Dex looks around in the small gas station, yellow lights flickering, stinking of bleach.

“No,” he says, “I’m… I’m good.”


	7. golden cage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok with this chapter and by enext few it’ll focus more on family issues and Dex as a character, trying to add dimension to him. however, i don’t just want it to be trauma porn, i’ll be focusing more on his brother and his childhood and friends, his life at high school and his relationship with his family. nursey will be absent, but he’ll linger around nursey like a weird fucking thought.  
> the yearning is real
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated

The drive to Maine is long, and he finds himself filling the drive with one of Nursey’s spotify songs:  _ hit different by SZA _ . He finds himself wondering why Nursey likes this song, but it’s just so… Nursey. He’s seen his playlist and the song he listens to, from ‘dark academia bisexual librarian’ music to what Nursey describes (“Same,” Chowder said), to early 2000’s rnb with rap (“I’m playing WAP again I don’t care Dex,” Nursey said) all the way to indie folk.

He’s an enigma, something that Dex can’t figure out. He sighs and turns up to the volume to fill up the silence that lingers. Maybe, if he plays it hard enough, he can’t let his thoughts get louder and louder. He’s only looking forward to being in his uncle’s lobster boat, he’s weirdly missing the hot sun on his skin. Dex can’t wait to sink his feet into the sand, the beaches and the lake that he used to go to.

But that’s about it.

Maybe his brother? 

He sighs and drives further and further down into the road. When one of Nursey’s indie songs comes up, it starts to grow and creep up on him like vines against brick walls.

_ “Home is wherever I’m with you _ .”

He turns it off.

\--

The asphalt turns into the gravel driveway. Dex parks his old truck and gets out of the car. His house is a granny flat, the paint from the walls starting to chip, gutter rusty and falling apart. Dex looks over to the overgrown lawn, reeds and grass reaching up to his ankles. A smile creeps up on him as the oak tree comes into view, the tire swinging still there. He remembers the time his mum yells at him to fix the house, the holes on the ceiling, gutter rusting, the lawn overgrowning.

  
Ever since he’s left, it’s grown wild and untamed. He steps into the veranda, looking at the hanging clay pots full of tiny roses and lilacs. The rocking chair that used to be there is gone. Strange.

As soon as he opens the door, he’s enveloped into a bone-crushing hug from his brother, Jax. He’s much leaner now, but he still has that buzz cut with his ginger hair and the same freckles and pale skin that easily burns. Dex finds himself burying his face into the crook of his shoulder. He smells like flour.

“I’ve missed you man,” Jax says when they pull apart, he still has that giant grin that he’s got from dad, it never left. Dex smiles too. 

From what Jax told him over text that there’s extended family coming, all the uncles and cousins that Dex doesn’t remember, all there to celebrate their grandmother’s birthday, as well as just to see each other. He’s not ready for that, he bties his lip as Jax pulls him into the hallway that smells of bleach and all the way into the living room.

He half-expects his dad to be there, sitting on the ugly brown recliner. But they’ve divorced. He just… got up and left after it and left them to rot, his uncle said that he left to go to Australia.

It dawns on them that they’ve never had a  _ proper  _ family gathering. He bites his lip as he hears Jax starts to talk about how he’s doing online school, staying to help around the house, wash the dishes, etc. 

He’s always been the favourite, the mamas boy.

“Where’s mum?” Dex asks, they go into the tiny kitchen where Jax has been trying new recipes. He thinks that him and Bitty would get along well together.

“Oh, she’s at work,” he says, “waitress.”

“Waitress,” Dex repeats. Before that she used to stay home and read books to them before going to sleep. Dad would go to work early in the morning, and come back late into the night. That’s gone now, thing’s changed. Dex has to remind himself that. Jax goes back to baking and Dex walks back into the hallway, the photo of his relatives staring at him when he walks past.

He’s a little terrified to go back into his childhood room.

He takes a deep breath, then another one. In and out. He opens the door and the light from the open curtains fills the whole room. He’s taken pretty much everything with him from his room, but all that’s left is glue outlines from his hockey team posters, the desk next to his single bed, a few hockey trophies that’s dusty and the stained rug in the middle. Cream white walls surround him, it feels like it’s closing in onhim.

But before all of that his room used to be filled with  _ Black Eyed Peas _ and more posters and more trophies, he would hide his energy drinks beneath his bed and stay way up into the night so he could sneak out into the night and take a dip in the lake with his friend. There would be a second-hand laptop on his desk, which cost around $200 bucks. He practised his coding there, playing around with simple commands with Python.

There used to be a radio here as well, a gift from his uncle. But it’s gone now.

He sets his bag down on the floor and sits on his bed, it sinks beneath his weight. The ugly green pillows that’s mismatched with the deep blue polka dotted blanket are still here. It’s strange, to be back here after he swore to himself he would never come back  _ here _ . Dex turns back into his teenage self for a bit, as he pulls out his laptop, newer,  _ better _ . He pokes around with his own project, listens to his old music and stares at the ceiling with the fan that he got from the living room pointed directly at him.

After an hour, he gets up and takes his old bike from the shed and rides around the town with headphones in. No one recognises him, it’s a weird feeling to be a mere stranger in a place that used to mean  _ everything  _ to him back then. He looks at the old houses that’s still there, new ones with fancy cars and fancy lawns. He visits his old high school, it’s still there, sitting like an old relic.

He sits on his bike under a tree, melancholy runs through him. The parking lot is so empty and peaceful, it’s both eerie and calm, sad and lonely. In the left near the bushes was where he got into a fight, he came back home brimming with anger and bruises. His brother gave him an ice pack, Mum never noticed. 

But his friend, the one that he used to know but now is just a blank face, pulled him away from the fight. The boy, bright as the sun that Dex sometimes. The boyc that Dex climbed into the windo of his house late into the night, just to play video games and get drunk. The boy that was there when he went into the lake, and they swam there with the afternoon sun turning the water golden.

He’s gone, he deleted his facebook.

A sharp pang goes through him.

\--

His mum came back an hour ago, it was all constructed hugs and forced smiles and it felt a little iffy. She still had those white teeth smiles, but her shine in her dimmed, waning in the house. All of her warmth and joy that used to fill up the house, all the nooks and crannies, is fading, the summer chill comes along to replace it.

It’s strange, to see her in the kitchen taking a drink of water. Hair tied up in a messily, frizzy. Her uniform looks ironed and fresh, her makeup a bit cakey. Her hair used to be down to her shoulders, now her ginger hair is up to her chin. She wipes her red lipstick with the kitchen paper towel.

It’s like he’s seeing someone else. Someone took his mother and replaced it with a decoy. She silently locks herself in her room for the rest of the day, the air lifts and he can breathe again.

“Jax!” He says, stepping into the kitchen. He spots him making cookies, mixing the batter with a soft smile on his face. He puts on the counter and pulls Dex into a bone crushing hug that makes Dex groans and Jax just laughs and laughs. He’s sticky with sweat, and Dex noticed that he’s changed into a singlet and cargo shorts. 

“You’re so gross and sticky,” Dex says, chuckling.

“Man, sorry I just missed you,” they pull apart, and Jax has a wider smile on his face as he puts the chocolate chips into the batter.

“Bro can I help?”

He shrugs, he takes it as an invitation to help him. They settle like children again, bumping hips and touching arms and laughing so hard that they almost ruin the batter. Dex likes this, like they’re catching up on lost time as lost brothers, turning back the hands of the clock and they’re just innocent people bound by blood, making cookies in the kitchen.

When the timer rings, they both crouch as they pull open the oven door. They smile with glee, looking at each other for a moment before putting the tray on the stove. It’s a little misshapen and a little burnt, but it tastes like home and nostalgia. Dex almost burns himself on his tongue and Jax just tells him to be careful.  _ Don’t eat too fast. You could get a stomach ache. _

“How’s online school?” Dex asks as he pulls the electric fan into the kitchen, plugging it in and putting it pointing on the tray.

“It’s a little shit if I’m gonna be honest,” he says, poking fun of the situation. He has a macbook, the new one. Dex wonders how long it took him to get that. He sits on the chair, moving his textbooks and workbooks away from him. He pulls his knees to his chest and pulls out his phone.

“Really?”   
  


“I don’t understand anything” 

Jax laughs again. He seems to be laughing more often, like after Dex came in all the light flooded back into the house.

“But, it’s not so bad,” Jax sighs, “really, if I’m gonna be honest.”

“What do you do around here?” Dex sits on the counter, swinging his legs.

“Wake up, shower, eat, do school work. Sometimes I go down to the beach to read, maybe walk around town to get some air. It’s nice, and quiet,” his smile turns into something else as he looks at his phone, “I like it.”

Dex goes back to his old teenage years, consisting of doing dumb, reckless things to distract himself from his family falling apart at the seams. He was usually awkward, but he was drunk and a bit more loose and a bit more  _ fun _ . He got drunk with his hockey team every weekend, ran in the middle of the night, swam in the lake and sometimes on the beach if he felt lucky. 

Him and his friend went swimming to the beach once, in the middle of the night. Water dark like the sky, it lapped their skin and foamed at the sand, it was a little terrifying and stupid but they laughed and laughed so loud that it didn’t matter. But at school or at home, he was quiet and awkward. 

He looks over to Jax again. He’s not the type of person to be held down, shackled. He was a great basketball player, got good grades and he was someone that everyone wanted to be. Jax is someone who never dated, wasn’t on his agenda, always laughing and smiling. He cares too much, that’s why he cried at this graduation.

It’s strange to see him like this. But it feels like he should feel like a bird trapped in a cage, maybe a golden cage.

\--

There’s something he’s excited about too.

His uncle's lobster boat. He’s weirdly missing it. He hated working those summers, with the heat on his back and sweat that trickled from his forehead. But Dex finds himself missing the days where he only needed to think about work and nothing more, not thinking about schoolwork or his family. Working at the boat is how he got calloused, rough hands, and how skin grew more and more freckles in the sunlight.

Dex sighs, stretching as he gets up from his bed. It’s 11 pm, and the house is filling up with quiet typing from Jax and mum’s soft snores that come through the walls. He turns on his laptop at his desk to wait for his internet to join the groupcall with Chowder and Nursey. Both of their faces are a little pixelated as they come into the screen, Dex smiles.

“You sit weird,” Chowder says, he’s laying on his bed with his hoodie on, snacking on doritos.

“No I don’t.”

“Pointerdexter,” Nursey’s standing in a kitchen making boxed mac and cheese, everything in there looks expensive, “you either tuck in your knees to your chest, or you sit backwards on the chair.”

“I’m not sitting weirdly right now.”   
  


“ _ Dexy _ ,” Nursey teases, “look at yourself.”

He is sitting backwards, he groans as he stands up to sit properly. 

“So how are you guys?” Dex opens a bag of doritos.

“It’s so fucking boring and lonely at New York,” Nursey pauses for a moment to take the pot of the heat, “so I’m doing nothing for the break, just snacking on donuts and getting food from Ubereats.”

“Dude, I’m craving Ubereats,” Chowder cuts in.

“Then why don’t you get some?” Nursey pours powder into the pot. Dex thinks that’s now how you’re supposed to cook boxed mac and cheese.

“I already ateeee,” Chowder rolls over in his bed, “I miss Farmer.”

“Awwwww, you guys are so sweet,” Nursey teases him as he almost burns himself pouring his mac and cheese onto the bowl.

“Gross,” Dex comments.

\--

He brushes his teeth and he waits for sleep to take over him, but he can’t. He looks at the ceiling where his glow in the dark ceiling used to be. But it’s gone now, and what’s left is just the darkness that envelopes the whole room. His mind wanders places, and he wonders whether if everyone in the Haus comes over.

Their voices would fill the house and the walls would rattle. Bitty would make more pies and Jax would write the recipes down, trying to keep up with him. Chowder would laugh and Nursey would stand there with a beer. He wonders how he’ll look like on the beach, with the water foaming around him and the sun beaming all around them. Under the blue sun and summer heat, Would he laugh? Would his dimples show? Would he come out of the water to help Jack with the barbecue?

He thinks he'll look like a work of art, something he’ll hang up the walls. It’ll stay there for all eternity. The thought of everyone coming down to Maine quickly dwindles as he realises that all of his extended family is coming over, and soon relatives will thud the floor like titans. He can’t sleep, so he goes for a run again until his feet hurt.

He dreams of someone, he can’t quite figure out their face, it’s distorted and weird. Reality is shifting in and out in his dream, but all he knows is that deep feeling of missing someone.


	8. is this home?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WILL EDIT THIS LATER IM JUST TIRED IM SO SO SORRY FOR THE ERRORS
> 
> tw for family issues, homophobia, racism and bigotry from the uncles, Dex just put them in their place 
> 
> Again sorry for not posting, laptop broke and I wansnt comfy writing on my phone. To make it up I wrote a very long chapter Nd I might have the next chapter out this week!! This chapter is just about character exploration, but Dex just can’t stop thinking about Nursey ahhh. Okay the next two chapters are gonna bit intense... and Dex may or may not figure out he actually likes Nursey soon so 👀👀
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated

The next few days he wakes up earlier, the house piles in with more and more people. Distant uncles and aunties that he can’t remember, that he only laughs awkwardly with. The air fills with callous conversations that disrupt his sleep. He wakes up at nine am every day now. He’s settling into this quick but strange system.

This time, on a Tuesday, he wakes up to his younger cousins running in the hallway. Dex gets out of his room all groggy and tired, his blood already craving coffee. But he smiles as his younger cousin at the age of eight, with big brown eyes and ginger pigtails tugs at him. She has that smile that reminds him of Nursey. So bright and big like the sun.

“Play your unicorn with me!” She yells. He tugs her to the living room, her Elsa dress dragging on the floor. It’s one of those cheap dresses, made of plastic and cheap fabric, the cape is see-through with bits of plastic diamonds stuck to the mesh. He smiles as he sees the tiny picnic set out, which is strange to see in the disorderly living room.

He sits on the blanket, one of the old ones that he used when he was just eight. She has teacups set up, he drinks the pretend green tea in his plastic cup that tastes of nothing but dust. He makes a noise, and she smiles again that makes him melt. He used to play by himself, with tiny green soldiers and comic books.

Now, as he looks at his cousin that’s playing with a tiny, discoloured plush unicorn. Around him the air smells of musty, mixing in with wet carpet and dusty couches. One of his uncles that he hasn’t talked to in so long smokes on the recliner where his dad once sat, something surges in him, no one _deserves_ to sit there. 

He recalls how his dad’s laughter would fill the air, but now where his uncle sits he just chuckles at him. 

“Oi Dex, keep playing with your cousin and soon you’ll wear dresses for real,” he comments.

Dex feels his stomach churn, he starts to feel smaller and smaller so instead, he just awkwardly chuckles and scrolls through his phone, sometimes nodding at his cousin and sometimes drinking his ‘cup of tea’. 

_The haus_

**_Nurseeyy_ **

_Zzzzz_

_Zzzzzzzzzzz_

_Zzzzzzzz_

**_D e v y_ **

_Same lol_

**_Shark_ **

_Same nursey_

**_Tangy_ **

_Idk what’s happening but same nursey_

_Retweet_

_Reblog_

**_Angry ginger go brr_ **

_Lol_

**_Nurseeyy_ **

_Lol?_

_That it?_

_Thats all i get_

_A FUCKING LOL_

_From my iconic zzzzz_

_Wtf_

**_Angry ginger go brr_ **

_Aodijaosidjaj hahaaha_

He chuckles at himself, a real smile that creeps up on him so bright that his brother comments on it while his mum walks into the living room, wearing that ugly flower apron. There’s the sound of oil popping. She’s cooking sausages and eggs. Jax walks into the living room, snacking on chips.

“Your uncle down by the beach needs the two of you,” his mum points to him and Jax, “won’t be long, something about the lobsters at his boat.”

“Huh…” Jax mumbles.

There’s a quiet joy that spreads in him, he bites down his lip. He’s been waiting for this sense of familiarity. Sunburned skin and drinking beer on the boat. The radio that crackles and sometimes works. Humid weather and sweat on his forehead. He used to hate working at his uncle’s boat in the summer, but it brings a weird nostalgia that he wants. They take Dex’s truck, the leather of his chair already peeling off.

The first three minutes of the ride consists of the air filling up with awkwardness, the staticky sounds of old school songs aren’t enough to take over the tension. Dex clears his throat, drumming his thumb against the steering wheel.

“You should give you truck some love man,” Jax comments.

“Nursey said the same thing as you.”

“Who’s Nursey.”

“Oh, my pair for defence at hockey,” he says, though he still hangs on how he said _pair_ , like they’re two halves of each other that comes alive on the ice.

“Well, maybe you should listen to your friend,” Jax hums.

“Yeah,” Dex says, “maybe I should.”

But he doesn’t have enough money to repaint the car, or get new leather for his four-seater truck. He did get those fresheners for cars that you hang, Nursey complained about how it smells of oil and ax deodorant. Now it smells like _Nursey_ , which is strange. The earthy tone of a forest mixing in with pine and a tinge of vanilla.

“It smells nice, though,” Jax says.

Dex touches the hanging refresher on the mirror, “Yeah, I guess so.”

He starts to wonder how Nursey’s going, the temptation to text him as they pull onto the parking lot near the pier washes over him. Dex wants to know if he’s alright. He’s useless in the kitchen. The brownstone that he lives in looks so lonely and large. He might be like a mouse trapped in a cage, running around in circles for entertainment.

He might be reading books.

Or writing poems.

Or maybe getting a tattoo.

Or something.

So he should be fine.

“Come on William!” His brother is already outside in the parking lot, and Dex just shakes the thoughts out of his head and hums. They meet their uncle and he’s thrown into a bone-crushing hug, he has the same ginger hair, matching the many freckles that litter his cheeks because the Pointerdexters don’t know what sunscreen is. He’s scrawny, has a bit of a beard and smells of beer. He remembers why he hated being on the boat.

Because his uncle was always somehow drinking.

Jax stays behind on the boathouse to fix up a couple of things while Dex looks around for a minute. The rickety planks beneath him, where he can see the waters he grew up on. The workbench. The anchors and lifeboats on the walls. The many photos of sailors that his uncle told him about. It’s sort of comforting, coming back here. It was like that back at the house, even though it was awkward and full of discomfort.

But here, it smells of home and lounging on the pier in the afternoon sun as him and his uncle eat clam chowder.

He does get a move on and goes on his uncle's boat, his stomach churning because it’s been so long since he’s been on a boat. The fishnets creak and groan and the water is rough, he looks back to the beach and smiles. Here, within the wet air that tastes of salt, he could dive his fingers through the foaming waters and know everything he could about his childhood.

He does settle back into the routine of throwing the net overboard into the deep waters. He keeps looking back to the shore and the waters that crash against the rocks, his uncle yells at him to get his act straight. The engine of the boat powers down, only the sounds of seabirds and the drumming of Dex’s fingers drumming on the railing comes into his ear. His uncle doesn’t bother to turn on the radio. It’s probably just full of static.

He wants to speak, to catch up on what happened to this town after he left. This place, before he thought it was just his whole world, that it was just high school and sometimes hockey. But the minute he stepped outside of Maine everything clicked, that his life won’t just be inside this town.

Now he’s back home, it’s like he’s back to his old self. His uncle clears his throat and smokes, offering him one as he stands next to him. Dex takes it, he lights it with his own lighter while the two of them stare at their own reflection on the water.

“I missed you and that kid that you used to hang out with,” his uncle says.

“I can’t remember his name,” Dex says.

“It started with a… J or something. Think he left like a few weeks after you did, deleted his Facebook and everything.”

“Really?” Dex hums, he draws out a puff of smoke, if Shitty was here he would pipe him about how the damage he’s been doing to his lungs, but he’s been doing that and along with beer for a long time now. That’s him, William Poindextet, the tough nut.

“Yeah… poor kid, no one knows where he is,” his uncle says.

More silences, Dex changes the subject, “you excited for everyone to come over?”

“God no, our family is a fucking mess,” his uncle scoffs, extinguishing his cigarette by pressing it into the railing and then throwing it behind him, it doesn’t land in the water, “I’ll do the same excuse, that I have to get more lobsters for the market before the next season messes everything up.”

“You really don’t like everyone, don’t you?”

“William,” his uncle rests his hands on his shoulder, Dex almost drops his cigarette, “you, your brother, your dad, a couple of my nieces and like one of your uncles and aunties are my exception. They’re like, raging republican bigots,” he draws a shaky breath, “tried everything to take their blindfolds of their eyes but they do like the sweet fucking bliss of ignorance.”

Dex didn’t expect this from his uncle, that or he’s been like this and it’s been a while. He lets himself smile, warmth flooding up in his chest. 

“I miss your dad, you know,” his uncle starts up again, “he was nice, before they argued.”

“He was,” Dex puts his cigarette out and starts to play with the skin.

His uncle nudges him on the shoulder, “I’ll be in the boathouse, getting drunk on my hammock if you need me. You have my number, right?”

“Nah.”

“I’ll get it for you when we get back.”

—

He gets his number. So _at least_ he has a bail out if he needs to. When Jax gets back in the car his hair is ruffled and messy, he reeks of soot. His red flannel is pulled up to his elbows, there’s grease marks on his cargo shorts.

This is a weird thing to see, because Jax _doesn’t_ fix stuff. Dex did. He was the type of brother that say shit like how D.C is better than Marvel, while being the type of person who goes out on parties with people while Dex just gets drunk with people he doesn’t even like, mostly being awkward in the corner.

Now he’s fixing things.

It feels like he doesn’t know his own brother at all.

“Can’t believe he asked as if we had a special lady in our lives,” Jax chuckles, Dex turns the ignition key and the engine roars to life.

“I just shrugged,” Dex mumbles, they pull of the parklijf lot, the windows down, “don’t have time for that, you know. Too busy finishing uni.”

“Yeah,” Jax hums, “really not something I need right now,” the way he says it, it sounds like he’s practised it over and over again until it became _too_ natural, void of pauses and hesitations and the croaking of voice. It’s _weird_. 

The air smells of the sea, of home. When it fades away when they drive further and further away, he thinks that it might be a long time until he can smell salt that burns his throat and lobsters. Maybe five years or so, give or take. Maybe, in five years, he’ll see Nursey here, he always talked about how he wanted to travel after he graduated.

_Dude, I should travel after I graduate. That’s why I’m an Aquarius, with a Gemini rising and a Leo moon._

_What the fuck are you on Nursey._

_Wow… you really are Scorpio. Our star signs don’t match, unless we really put effort into it._

_You do realise astrology is fake right?_

_Shut the fuck up Dex. Okay let me see, along with your Scorpio sun you have Scopio moon and Taurus rising. Do you need therapy? Let’s get you therapy._

_*sigh*_

—

The kitchen begins to smell of roast chicken and pumpkin pie when they get back, he puts on the apron and helps his auntie with her cupcake recipe that will have Bitty vomiting in it’s sight. But Jax comes in to save the day, adding brown sugar and vanilla essence as it comes out of the oven fresh and smelling like a bakery. He smiles at himself.

Children scream as they run around in the kitchen, with Dex almost dropping his pot of water. Everything is utter chaos and manic, he doesn’t know whether he misses this noise or if he wants to crawl back into his room or not. His mother helps to, with setting up the table and the cutlery. There’s a quiet smile on her face, like she misses the sounds of laughter and people talking to fill the house.

Next to him Jax is backing more cookies, Dex is stirring more batter.

“How did you get so good at baking? You seem to know your way around,” Jax comments.

“Oh, one of the hockey boys bakes, I’m his official helper,” Dex chuckles, “literally none of the boys can cook.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, they lived off ramen noodles and shit before Bitty moved in,” Dex hums, he takes the wooden spoon and drops some on the tray, leaving spaces for each cookie to form.

Slowly the dinner table that’s way too big for all of them fills and fills with plates and mismatching spoons and forks, dishes and meals and vegetables make their way on the table. In the living room his nieces are already eating cupcakes and cookies, he guesses they refuse to eat the so-called ‘pasta’ that mum cooked. He thinks they’re going to start to eat the cake soon.

He sits at near the end of the rectangular dining table, Jax sits next to him. They pray, obviously. His grandmother guides them all, blessing their food laid in front of them. Dex just closes his eyes and pretends to pray, but all he thinks about is how his phone is vibrating in his pocket. 

He takes a peek.

It’s Nursey, miles and miles of drunken texts that somewhat resemble poetry.

He does this, not during the kegsters, but after exams and assignments he passes. Usually Dex babysits him, and they just sit on the outside while Dex watches Nursey stargaze. He sometimes recite stupid poetry that slurs and comes out wonky. Sometimes he texts Dex poems that he makes up on the spot. Sometimes he writes them on Dex’s arm with a pen.

It’s strange.

He pockets it and silences his phone, he can deal with it later.

The prayer ends and they begin to eat. Jax eats normally, not shovelling food or talking with his mouth open like he did back then. His mum talks about work. His uncles laugh as they drink more beer. His grandmother nods at what Jax is saying about his online uni work. While Dex, he just stares and stares and stares.

He chews on dry chicken and undercooked vegetables. He wants to call his other uncle, to go back to the boathouse, he still feels like an outsider, no matter how long it’s been since he stepped foot into this house. The photos that haunt the hallways. Hand me down furniture that they got from the garage sales. Dust that still sits on the bookshelves. It’s all there, the house just the same.

But it’s like someone took everything inside and replaced it where it _exactly_ was, and Dex is the only one who’s still _him_. Dinner stirs, people leave the dining table to sit in the cramped living room to watch the NBA. Two of his uncles that he barely remembers are drunk, laughing with their mouths full.

Next to him, Jax is on his phone, mindlessly stabbing his peas. His mum collects the dishes and washes. His grandmother is somewhere. The dining room is a mess of bits of corn and broccoli on the kitchen, empty beer cans and half-finished plates. Dex can’t get himself to leave.

Because he’s seething with quiet anger as he listens to both of his uncles--known for being the useless uncles in the family--spew bigotry and the ‘liberal agenda’. Next to him, Jax looks uncomfortable, like he’s turning inwards like a crab in a shell. 

“Yeah I just can’t believe it man,” his uncle slurs, burping loudly which only fuels more and more of Dex’s anger, “Jack Zimmerman? It’s like that novel is churning out more and more _queers_.”

“Won’t be much of a stretch when they get more people for minority points,” his uncle responds.

More slurs.

More bigotry.

And everyone is just _quiet_.

He’s seething, the grip on his beer tightens. He thinks he might break it if he isn’t too careful, to leave sharp glasses that cut deep into his palm. Dex is bouncing his knee, trying not to drink. Jax grows more uncomfortable. NBA commentators yell. Kids are running everywhere. He bites his lip.

He counts one to ten.

“Can’t believe they’ll let someone like Jack in the hockey team, maybe his ‘boyfriend’ would slot in him for him, all fa--”

Fuck counting one to ten.

“You got something to say about my fucking teammates huh?” Dex breaks, standing up with his voice booming, everyone is quiet, even Jax, “say it to my face.”

His uncle just snorts, “take it easy William it’s just a _joke_.”

Dex thinks he’s going to kill someone in this house, he slams his palm onto the table as it rattles, “you’re really gonna do that, huh? As if we weren’t denied a good school life because we didn’t have enough money. As employers turned _you_ away because you were too poor. As if we aren’t sinking under rent, and all stupid politicians do is nothing but gain fat on money?” Dex scoffs, running his hands through his sweaty hair, he can feels his tone shake, “and you’re gonna sit here, talk shit about minorities that don’t even do anything to you?’

“Dex--”

“--Just because they aren’t _here_ , doesn't mean that bigotry just goes out of the fucking window!”

He’s breathing loud, he can hear his own heartbeat in his ears and his blood is still boiling. Everyone is staring at him like he’s not the Dex they know. Not the Dex that’s awkward, their happ and introverted boy that plays hockey and is a good Southern Republican kid. His mum looks at him with disbelief.

“You,” she points a knife at him, “ruined the only chance that our family could get together.”

The anger in him is leaving him now, he feels exhausted and drained, “where the mum I knew?” He looks at her, eyebrows furrowed and he’s trying to _hard_ to not let his voice shake, “where is she? Where’s dad?”

She says nothing.

No one says nothing.

“Happy fucking birthday,” he mumbles loud enough for everyone to hear. He goes to his room and takes his things, quickly shuffling his clothes into his duffel bag. Dex momentarily pauses, wondering if he should take his posters and trophies with him, the stupid drawing that he made when he was six is still under his bed.

They all belong to the house now, bathed in mum’s willingness to stay quiet and it looms ghost of Dex’s pasts. It’s not the Dex he used to know. Because maybe that’s the part of growing up, realising that maybe the stupid drawings and memories in the kitchen are just that, memories, fleeting.

He shoves his laptop into his duffel bag and drives to the lake.

\--

He stays there, in his car, thumbing over Nursey’s messages and poems. A part of him wants to reply to Nursey, but he stopped texting a while ago. Now his wall of texts are a bunch of garbled messes, but he makes out the sentences.

_Miss you like home, come back to me at midnight where we can piece together our cracked pottery and start anew._

Then there’s:

_An enigma, that’s what you are. One moment you’re setting fires to the sky then the next you’re dressed in all black._

There’s also:

_I wish to see you just not on the screen, and I yearn for when we can touch in warmth between atoms._

It’s weird, these poems. He leans against the door and stares out into the lake. His friend that he used to know, he loved books, the stupid YA novels that’s always cheesy and follows the same storyline. He did not care. Sometimes, when they smoked cigarettes, he would bring his book and read it out here. He never liked poems. Too abstract. Too much. He liked simplicity. Character A likes Character B, they go through some hardships, they end up together at the end.

But Nursey… he speaks in foreign languages and fluent words that Dex can’t speak. He says he doesn’t like YA novels but Dex has seen him crying over _The Hunger Games_ book late into the night. Nursey also recites stupid poetry sometimes back when they used to share the room. Everything was simpler back then when they used to share the room. Can they go back to that? When they sometimes argued but just for fun? Just before Dex left their room everything was fine, they were good.

He pockets his phone and steps out into the moonlight, a breeze ruffling his hair and kissing the back of his neck, causing him to shiver. Here, in the lake, it’s quiet. He steps into the cold sand that leaves behind footprints and sits on the sand, staring out into the water, lit by the moon. Dex takes a pebble nearby and skips rocks, the only thing accompanying him are crickets chirping and the quiet noise of the town. 

Here, he can pretend that he’s still back in high school, unaware, hanging out with his best friend that reminds him so much of Nursey it’s uncanny. But it isn’t him. His name starts with J. This place, this lake, it’ll forever have a special place in his heart, it already has a hole carved out for it.

He gets another text from Nursey, not a poem this time:

_Come back to me._

Dex texts back:

_You good?_

He gets left on read.

“Hey,” a voice comes out of nowhere, he looks up and sees that it’s his brother, with his unruly hair and eyebags more prominent in the moonlight. He sits next to him.

“Did they send you?”

“Nah,” he mumbles, “they just told you you’re immature. I don’t think you’re immature, by the way.”

“Oh,” Dex doesn’t knows what to say, he skips another rock, “thanks?”

Jax laughs, it’s airy and unguarded and so _him_ . He’s wearing that stupid basketball hat, and sweatpants and a stained hoodie. So him. It’s so _him_ and Dex just realises it. But Jax shakily takes a breath and plays with the strings of his hoodie.

“I’m sorry for walking out,” Dex says, “that was stupid I—“

“—it’s not stupid you were in the right to call them out and—“

“—I just crashed a dinner party and I think everyone in the family hates me know but—“

“—I don’t hate you—“

“—why?” Dex asks.

They fall silent, Jax takes a shaky breath.

“Because I’ve had to put up with that’s hit for a long time,” Jax says, “developed a lot of internalised homophobia from that.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Dex says in a flat tone.

_Oh._

He’s gay. His brother is gay and he didn’t even _know_. He feels like shit, wanting to turn back time and maybe if he stayed behind instead of Jax then maybe he would still be fine.

“Yeah, I’m uh… still working on it. But I met this boy online,” Dex watches his lips curl into a smile, his face lighting up, “he makes me happy, and I’m planning to move in with him. And after a long type to think I decided that I’m done. I’m fucking done.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m tired of being mums therapist, to fill up space in the corner and be a good child. I could be playing pro at NBA, but I’m stuck doing a dumb course online that I kinda don’t like,” he sniffles, “so I’m leaving, soon. Our uncle, down by the boat house, he’s gonna help me get out of here. Maybe in a week or two.”

“I’m coming to your wedding,” Dex chirps.

Jax nudges him in the shoulder, and they somehow find themselves awkwardly hugging. It’s nice, the strange sort of nice that Dex hasn’t felt in a long time. He hugs him tighter, wanting to make it up for all the lost time. Jax responds with a noogie that sends snorts into the air.

“Wait hang on,” Dex pulls apart, “what’s his name.”

Jax wipes his tear away, “Markus.”

“Markus,” Dex repeats, “if he breaks your heart I’ll break his balls.”

“Noted.”

His phone buzzes again, it’s from Nursey. He quickly checks it, his skin bathing in its soft blue light.

_No_

“Who are you texting?” Jax chirps, they both stand up.

“Just a friend, not doing very well.”

“You must care about them a lot, you don’t really spend a lot of time checking texts.”

“Yeah,” Dex hums, “I do care about them.”

Jax gives him an endearing look, “don’t lose them, keep them close.”

“I know.”

They start to walk back to the truck, “you should call them.”

“I can drive you back to the—“

“—stop changing the subject, William,” Jax says, “I’ll be fine, thirty minute walk. But your friend, they must mean something to you.”

He thinks of Nursey, stuck in his giant apartment in the sprawling city full of rain and buildings at this time of the year. Nursey, who must be missing the Haus and wasting his time getting wasted and watching Netflix, maybe reading dramatic and sad books. His days, filling up with mundane things to keep out the mere loneliness at bay, that maybe, if he doesn’t pay attention to it, it’ll go away eventually.

His stomach churns at the thought, he doesn’t know why.

“Say hi to uncle for me,” Dex says before he drives away. The engine coughs and splutters, car lights bathing the gravel road and leaves in a yellow hue. In the mirror, he watches his brother wave at him.

He fixes his freshener and waves back. Dex drives, as he calls Nursey and waits for him to pick up. Behind him the town they used to call home is growing smaller and smaller behind him.

He waits and waits for Nursey to pick up.

He pulls over near a billboard, stepping outside with his phone as he leans against the door. His stomach churns and he’s already thinking of different scenarios and his thoughts are going a hundred miles an hour and—

“ _Dexy_ ,” Nursey slurs over the phone, “how are you mannn!”

“You’re drunk.”

“I don’t care. Does it look like I give a fat shit?”

“I do.”

“Hehe, you’re funny.”

Nursey stares at the cars zooming past him, he pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs, “Nursey, bro, you were sending me poems.”

“Did you like them!” Nursey chirps, “I wrote them for youuuu.”

He thought of recording this and sending it to the group chat, but he decided against it, “yes, I did like them.”

He did like them, it was though someone was looking at him from afar, depicting and analysing parts and pieces of him. Dex is like a weird, complex text that Nursey is still figuring out, with metaphors muddled and means hidden deep in his freckled skin. It’s strange, how can Nursey see him like that?

“Nice, mannn,” Nursey chuckles.

“Okay listen, I’m driving over and it’ll take like maybe eight hours becaus I don’t trust you being drunk on your own.”

“You care about me?”

“Yes,” Dex sighs, “yes I do.”

“I can’t believe that you’re coming over! Wow it’ll be like a realllyy coool sleepover—“

Dex hangs up and sighs. Before he keeps driving, he deleted his every family relative’s family number except his uncle and his brother’s. There something that thrums inside him, going a hundred in a high way. It’s almost as though someone’s pulling him, breathing life back into him and now he feels like he can run a whole marathon.

He thinks, that it’s Nursey.

It’s strange and weird.

He distracts this thought by blasting Black Eyed Peas with the windows down. If he drives fast enough, he can get there at nine am. But the music isn’t enough, and in the back of his mind he starts thinking about Nursey’s texts.

_Come back to me...miss you like home...yearn for when we touch...setting fires to the sky…_

His subconscious thoughts are catching up on him. Dex puts his foot down on the pedal and drives faster.


	9. creeping in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAA
> 
> ok next chapter will be so fucking iconic omg i cant waittttt dex is so oblivious it's insane!!!!
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated <3

Dex remembers how long it takes to get to New York, because he’s done this trip before. He recalls it as he drives in the night, nothing but the crackling radio being his company. It was sophomore year, their relationship still a bit shaky, a bit unknown, two opposite people thrown into the mix. Dex didn’t want to go back to his hometown, he also didn’t want to be stuck back at the Haus, where the suffocating silence would snuff him out like a candle.

So he drove all the way to Nurse’s apartment on a Sunday, late into the night carrying nothing but his duffel bag with a week’s worth of clothes and snow dusting his ginger hair. It was an impulsive decision that he made within a second. He waited for the door to slam on his face. To tell him to leave, go back home, never drive to his apartment ever again.

Instead, Nursey urged him to come inside and to close the door behind him.

He stayed at his apartment and kept to himself for the week, always cleaned and kept out of Nursey’s way. It was awkward.

What was awkward was sharing a bed together because the rooms were being renovated.

But there was a moment, where in the space of the night where everything was still he turned over. He regretted everything, because it was like he stared at something he couldn’t comprehend, like a three-dimensional being stepping into the fourth-dimension. Nursey’s face, it was five inches away from him, the moonlight dusted his brown skin with a twilight hue. The scruff on his chin. Curve of his nose where Dex could trace it with his fingertips. His jawline.

It was the most beautiful thing he thought he saw, that he thought that it would burn him alive and would make him combust if he stared any longer.

Now it’s only really resurfacing, rearing its ugly truth. Dex still doesn’t understand what it means, like he’s looking through it from a hazy lens. It has too many blurs. Too many shifts. Too many colours that blurs into one. Now, he can only know whether Nursey's okay. He’s trying to call him, his hands shaky every time he presses the call button.

And each time he doesn’t answer his heart sinks.

He takes breaks, they’re quick. He pulls over to a gas station to go to the toilet and gets a couple of candy bars. When he gets tired he gets a cup of coffee that tastes like literal shit. He slows down to light his cigarette properly. But each time he pauses or slows down, he has his phone in his hand.

Waiting.

And Waiting.

For him to call.

It’s been six hours, and his eyebags are showing. Sunlight seeps through the dawn, casting away the black and purples and bringing out the yellows and pink. Bright. Bright like Nursey. Made of so many bright colours that blinds him. Dex thinks he’s the darker colours. His eyelids begin to grow heavier and heavier and —

His phone buzzes.

It’s Nursey.

He picks it up and puts it on speaker, “hello?’

A garbled mess makes it out of the phone.

“Nursey, buddy, you’re gonna have to speak up a little bit more. I can’t hear you.”

‘“I’m still hungover,  _ Dexy _ ,” Nursey hums, he sounds tired and out of loop, Dex speeds up a little bit more and suddenly he doesn’t feel tired, “how much did I drink?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you know?” Nursey huffs, his voice deep, but there’s a sense of vulnerability, of softness in the way his voice breaks, “you know… Dex… you’re really nice.”

“Yeah?” Dex hums.

More garbled noises and sighs, a moment of stillness. 

“Hey, come on buddy stay with me,” Dex says, “how’s Bitty and Jack, they’re doing fine, right?”

“I don’t know man, that question’s too hard,” Nursey sighs, he hears him rolling around his bed, “they’re really sweet and nice. You know…. I… me… I want something like that.”

Something like  _ that _ . Maybe, Nursey is saying of a relationship, of trusting and loving a person so much that they reveal all the things that they hide. Usually it’s the scars on your soul, the hidden memories, the embarrassing memories that causes the two of you to laugh your ass off in the middle of the night.

Dex thinks, he wants something like that. Someday. He doesn’t know  _ when  _ or  _ how _ , but he can feel his parent’s relationship haunting him like a ghost.

“You want something like that?” Dex continues, he pulls over to the drive thru to get some food for Nursey.

“That sounds so… nice… loving someone,” Nursey groans, “but I don’t have… the time… for that. You know, man? Hookups are just so much better instead of loving someone…. Or something.”

Dex laughs, a sincere one he isn’t straining. He pulls over to get the Whopper Meal and chicken fries. It’s Nurse’s usual order. He remembers it by heart. Nursey’s words slowly fill up the car and Dex turns off the radio. He’s ranting drunkenly, the hungover still taking a toll on him. 

He even brings his phone in and listens to him when he gets doritos and hot cheetos for him. Dex doesn’t really get what he’s saying, but his slurring and stupid jokes bring him a sense of comfort under the yellow flurescent lights and tiled floors. He even laughs at his puns. He  _ smiles  _ at them like some dumb idiot.

He sighs, going back to his car and hoping that the food won’t go cold.

—

New York is big, and getting to Nursey’s address is harder. It’s a mess of intricate buildings and turns and twists. But he does get there on time, with his bags and his peace offering of food for Nursey. He rings the doorbell, staring at the deep, earth tone of the buildings, the details of the window sill. How long this building must’ve stood for, years and years, hearing from Nursey.

He does open the door a few minutes later, looking like he’s been through hell and back. Stained sweatpants and hoodie, eyebags dragging his eyes down. He looks frail, weak. It’s the exact opposite of how Dex immediately pulls him into a bone-crushing hug that Dex wants to pull out of.

But that’s fine.

Because he can feel Nursey feeling a little better. His muscles relax. Shoulders droop. He puts his head into the crook of his shoulder. Back in freshman year they couldn’t do something like this.

And yet, here they are, standing in the cold with Nursey tightly hugging him.

“Can you let go —”

“ —Sorry,” Nursey hums, letting go and leaning against the doorframe for support. He looks like he’s about to throw up.

“You okay?”

“Fine, just… come in.”

He steps into the hallway full of priceless art and abstract black and white paintings. Dex stares in awe, his mind wondering how much this apartment costs, how much the paintings are, if Nursey actually like them. Does he wonder the hallways? Does he look at the paintings, with his finger just above the canvas as he traces the intricate lines?

  
Or is it just there, just to fill more space and to look pretty.

Dex closes the door behind him and sets the food on the kitchen counter made of marble, the kitchen has dark green cabinets with glass, with floating shelves hosting trinkets and cookbooks that Dex knows Nursey won’t ever read. There’s some ferns and plants that creep into the huge kitchen.

“Nursey!” He yells.

Nothing.

His phone bleeps, it’s text from him saying:  _ I’m throwing up in the toilet. _

Dex snorts, he goes up stairs to try to find his room. He opens each door. Study rooms. Book rooms. A bathroom. Another bathroom. A guest bedroom. Another guest bedroom. He takes the random one. This one is much smaller than the rest, with beige creme walls with hanging pots from the ceiling that drapes ferns and plants above. This room feels warm, with earthy tones and books with covers rough as sandpaper. He touches each one, he lights the scented candle, he looks out the window.

This room, it feels.. Different. It feels like Nursey, but bits of Dex is creeping through here.

“Decided to style it some more,” Nursey says behind, he stands in the hallway, looking a little bit better.

“You good?”

“Could be better, head’s killing me though,” Nursey hums, he walks into the room while Dex drops his bag onto the bed, “you do make a point with plants though.”

“What do you mean?”

“You really like plants, I see you bringing them out of your room to get it some sunshine.”

“ _ Oh _ ,” is all that Dex says, how did Nursey pick up on that? Back when he was a kid he was always in the backyard, knees dirty as he pricks his fingers to get roses from the bush, lilacs from the neighbour’s garden, where he could reach just through the gap of the fence. It was there, where he collected plants and ferns and grew his own little garden.

His mum didn’t like them. So he stopped. But now he has the time and the money to get them. It started out with one pot, then another, then another, then another cacti and a few more books on how to take plants and now it’s slowly taking over the Haus and his room. 

“Why is your apartment so big if you don’t mind me asking,” Dex sits down on the bed, facing Nursey as he removes his shoes, “like everything here besides a few things is just there to fill the space.”

“My uh… my parents are workaholics,” Nursey hums, “they got me this apartment during freshman year so I could be more independent, they send me money and stuff in my bank account but…” Nursey sighs, “they’re too busy, workaholics, you know how they can be.”

Dex doesn’t understand, but he nods, “they must really care about you.”

“Yeah… they do…”   
  
Silence stretches between them like a bubble, wrapping around them like warmth. If Dex could, he would ask more about his parents, about life, but now they can only be two metres apart. 

“I should go, leave you to things.”

“Your food is on the table, your favourite.”

A small smile creeps up on Nursey’s face before he leaves.

—

**_Jax_ **

_ I did it  _

_ I moved out _

**_Dex_ **

_ You have somewhere to stay? _

**_Jax_ **

_ Yeah, it’ll take a while to get to LA though. _

_ Taking a lot of buses and trains, uncle gave me some money to help me. _

**_Dex_ **

_ Stay safe _

**_Jax_ **

_ I will _

If he was in freshman year, he would’ve just replied an  _ okay _ to him. But now, it’s like his walls are softened and a little see-through, where he can see his inner child and who he is. The walls, spiky and terrifying, it still ebbs and flows. It’s fine, he thinks. He’s always been this tough nut, a bit guarded and a bit closed off that takes a while to warm up too. He’s always gonna be like this, he thinks.

He sighs, closing his laptop and putting it on the desk with little trinkets and succulents, outside city lights are slowly creeping in, the sun hanging low on the horizon. When he steps into the window and peers outside he sees the golden light that makes his freckles glow, on his cheeks, on his arm, on his nose.

Everywhere.

Dex eventually changes into sweatpants and a hoodie, keeping his socks on and making a mental note to look over his coding project one more time before he goes out the door. Nursey said that he was fine, that he just needed naps and more green tea. Stepping into the kitchen he looks better, a bit tired with eyebags still dragging his eyes down, his skin looking dry.

“I look like shit,” Nursey hums, he sits on the counter eating a bag of potato chips,“sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’m just here to keep you company.”

“You didn’t have to leave me for your family, you shouldn’t have to.”

His mouth goes sour and he bites his lip hard, he can’t be thinking about his family, or how ‘torn’ it is right now. It was broken beforehand, fixed with flimsy tape and fake promises. Dex shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and lets his hands curl into fists, nails cutting into his palm.

“I wanted to come here.”

“You did?” Nursey hums, “I don’t think I’m the best companion for you.”

“I don’t mind, really. It’s a week. I didn't want to go back to Haus.”

“Why?” Nursey hops off the counter, rummaging through his pantry.

“Because Devy and Whiskey were there.”

“What about them?”

“I think something's going on between them,” Dex sighs, he walks over to the fridge, there’s nothing but beer and a couple of microwaved meals, “Devy’s connecting to Whiskey, different than how Denice or Tango would.”

“You think there’s…” Nursey trails off, he gets a packet of cookies and leans against the wall.   
  


“Maybe….”

More silences, it’s the loud kind that grows along with his thoughts. About his family, his mother, his nieces and his room back home. Guilt churns inside his stomach, he has to remind himself that he’s not responsible for his mother’s mistakes, not his job to fix things. Not his job to fix the broken dishwasher back home or the sink.

His hands grip around the fridge door tightly.

“We’re going grocery shopping,” Dex hums, needing a distraction from his thoughts.

“It’s fine I can uber and live off —”

“Nope, fuck off we’re going,” he grips Nurey’s wrist tighty, ignoring his protests and groans, “I’ll pay, we’re taking my truck.

—

Nursey hasn’t been in Dex’s truck a lot of times. He hopes it doesn’t smell that bad. They’ve been at the same red stop for a minute now, and Dex is not used to the traffic here. He’s tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel and trying not to drive through everyone while Nursey next to him is texting in the group chat.

He’s laughing, genuinely, the unguarded types, the type of laughs that he makes when Chowder crackers another joke. 

It makes him smile too, which is weird.

They pulled to the supermarket and Nursey somehow pulled about five reusable bags out of his ass. He has trouble parking. He almost hits a car. Everything’s good.

When they do go into the store, a cold shiver runs through him. Meanwhile, Nursey looks overwhelmed and confused, at the beeping sounds and controlled chaos around them.

“Just follow me,” Dex shoves his hands into his pockets, “I need to pile your fridge with okay food for the week.”

“But —”

“ —I’m paying, Jesus,” Dex sighs, he takes a cart and make their way to the frozen section, “don’t worry about it.”

Nursey tries to make a sound, but he just sighs and goes silent while he trails behind Dex. He follows him everywhere, when Dex piles in a pack of apples and grapes and watermelons. He groans when Dex buys cuts of chicken and beef. He squints when Dex fusses over the type of cheese to take. He nods when he gets the unsweetened oat milk. 

Nursey just watches Dex make his way around the store, humming, piling cabbages and carrots and eggs. He doesn’t get why he cares about Nursey this much, it’s a strange thing to see him like this, so worked up about his poor diet that could affect their performance in the finals.

But Nursey lets him rant anyway. It seems such a casual thing for the two of them. It takes about thirty minutes until Dex is finally satisfied, and they’re walking out the store with Dex’s wallet hurting and actual edible food for Nursey to eat. In the drive it’s already dark outside, Dex squints at the headlines and neon lights blaring at him.

They pass through the Time Square, where everything is bright with billboards lighting up. Dex feels like his truck is out of place against Toyotas and Hondas, against Tesla's as well. But his face lights up as he stares and stares and stares, like a child seeing a magic trick. To Dex, this is new, he’s seen in newspapers when he was a child, they never passed New York during their hockey trips.

But Nursey, this is a casual thing for him that’s embedded itself to his life. He smiles too, as he stares at Dex stare in awe, trying to hide his flush.

—

They get back to the house, Nursey manages to bug Dex to get them to deliver pizza while they finish the movie,  _ Maurice _ . A few minutes later they’re sitting on the carpet in front of the flat screen, lights off, watching the beauty of quiet intimacies of bodies enchant Nursey. Dex does watch more intently, eyes trained on the story, the yearning between the characters, the love.

Next to him Nursey begins to write on a piece of paper, he thinks he’s writing poetry. It’s a usual thing for Nursey, randomly scribbling something on his notebook in weird times and places. But here, it makes sense. He’s bathed and softened by the blue light, eyes focused, fingers grazing the grains of the paper.

Dex manages to get a read of portion of his poem, it reads:

_ You might be a spark that causes an entire inferno to ravage my forest, but perhaps, if we tried hard enough, we could have something else. _

Dex wonders how Nursey could be so open like this, placing bits and pieces of himself into writing for everyone to see. He’s kinda like Bitty, but relaxed and  _ chill _ , always cool-headed while he makes some of the dumbest decisions he’s done. How can anyone be like that? So relaxed and vulnerable.

Dex thinks, he’s jealous. He can’t be like that. He’s not someone that could walk into a room and make everyone comfortable. Dex is made of ragged edges and tough walls from his pale skin that burns too easily, sharp tongue from his scold and anger that simmer deafeningly but quietly from his teeth grinding.

The movie slowly ends with the man letting him go, there’s a pain in his eyes, a sense of yearning when he looks out of the window. There’s beauty in bliss, but now his eyes are open and all he can think about is his touch, his smile, his warmth. How he fits much better with him, rather than the touch of a woman’s.

Dex can’t pull his eyes away. Next to him, Nursey is wiping tears away.

“You okay?” Dex hums, he nudges him in the shoulder.

“Seen this movie like thrice and I still cry,” Nursey chuckles.

He can’t be like Nursey, who gives fistsbumps and soft hugs. He can’t be like Bitty, who talks to you and releases all the stress inside you, lifting the weight from your shoulders. Instead, he gives a sense of comfort by putting his hand on top of Nursey’s. It’s not stepping out of his comfort zone, he’s still there.

But he’s tethering in the end.

He falls asleep fine this night, within the weight of his blankets he dreams of sprawling buildings with thousands of rooms full of different things. He dreams of soft touches, skin to skin contact, shaky breaths and laughter from simple picnics on the field of grass. But he also dreams of suffocation, wanting to get the word out.

It stays lodged, stuck.

—

The next three days Nursey is back to his old self, full of chuckling and smiles. He comes undone, unravels and becomes alive at the seams while he tells Dex to  _ chill _ . He drags him outside to go sight-seeing, his lips sometimes pressing into a thin line everytime Dex stares in awe at the Time Square. When Dex tries to take a photo Nursey just shakes his head and tells him he’ll do it for him.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to —”

“Dex,” Nursey sighs, walking in the middle of the road in the deserted part of New York, full of rustling leaves and people walking their dogs, “I’ll do it for you, you keep doing it wrong.”

“I’m not!”

Nursey chuckles, taking a few photos. He angle’s and tilts his phone to get a better photo of the trees and the buildings, as well as the clear blue sky. Dex watches him, with the afternoon sun coming down on Nursey while he sticks out his tongue. He looks ridiculous, stupid while he stands in the middle of the street, telling Dex about rules of thirds or what not.

He lets him talk, because he hasn’t seen Nursey like this in a while.

They sometimes sneak off into hidden nooks of Manhattan, the secret libraries smelling of old papers and the smell of english breakfast tea. It’s a mix of a cafe shop, but Nursey is delving into the deepest parts of the shops and Dex follows him. He doesn’t read much, but Nursey talks about the classics and the books he’s read.

Dex lets his hands trace the dust on the shelves, the intricate patterns on the spice. There’s a murmur of voices in the shop, it’s peaceful, quiet. Dex thinks he like this, he could stay here, get lost in the winding corners and smell of books.

“You should read this,” Nursey nudges him in the shoulder, a cover of a bow and arrow, the end tipped with red, “ _ The Song of Achilles _ , you’ve read Percy Jackson and shit like that right?”

“Yeah?” Dex hums, he takes the book in his hands, “I have.”

“It’s a retelling of Greek stuff, Achilles and Patroclus.”

“Nurse you shouldn’t —”

“ —Jesus, nonsense,” Nursey scoffs, “you’ve done so much just by sticking around, dude. This is a thank you, I guess.”

Dex smiles, warmth filling up his chest as he flicks through the pages, letting himself feel the roughness of the paper, the way it curls around his thumb, his fingers. Nursey bought this for him, it feels sort of special. He’ll never get a scratch or tear in this book. He’ll keep it safe. It’ll have no bend pages.

That night, Dex watches him fall asleep on the couch. He looks peaceful. He doesn’t want to disturb him, but he does want to take a photo and send it to the group chat. Chowder sends laughing emojis. Tango texts question marks while Denice just keysmashes. 

Nursey will definitely kill him.

He puts a blanket over him and gets started on the book, even though his attention span is short. He reads a page. Then another. Sometimes stopping and getting distracted for a minute. But he reads. And each more he delves into the intricate poetries of the book.

It’s beautiful. Dex doesn’t deserve something like this from Nursey.


	10. daisies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a heads up, dex has a breakdown in this chapter, so if you're not comfortable with that you can skip the first bit of this chapter! also, guess what happens in this chapter, guess

They have two more days together, which is strange. It felt like an entirety. Guess time does fly when you’re with someone. Yesterday, they tried to bake simple boxed cookies. It ended up burned and Nursey almost burning down the whole kitchen. Dex scolds him. Nursey tells him to  _ chill _ . Dex groans in response.

But Nursey rants and sometimes mutters poetry under his breath. He doesn’t do this much under the Haus, one time he walked past his door he heard him mumbling poetry. He searched it up later. It was from a passage of spoken poetry. Dex found himself down a rabbit hole that night, trying to make sense of the line:  _ Maybe I can learn to love you _ .

Because it’s such a simple line.

But so… intimate.

Dex thinks he likes hearing him mumbling poetry or writing poetry or him writing short stories. He’s talked about how he wants to be an author. Maybe for YA novels with a mix of poetry books here and there during their dinner. 

“I’ll buy your book,” it sorta slipped out of Dex’s mouth last night, now it sat in front of the floor where they ate, an ugly thing against the beige wooden floors.

“Really?” Nursey nudged him on the shoulder.

“Fuck off.”

Nursey chuckled.

Because they’re like that. Friends. Friends who were first water against scorched rocks, but they had to cool down their anger and scowls to turn into something else. Friends, after Shitty had to lecture Dex between class privilege and white privilege. 

Friends.

That word was what he was thinking about, now Dex now wakes up much later into the morning, all tired and groggy, the type of sleep that he has to rub away the crush from the corner of his eyes. He’s usually a morning person. He has a strict sleep schedule that he follows to a fault. However, as he stares out at the window it just burns his eyes from the sunlight.

It’s one of those days.

He goes on autopilot and dresses up in sweats and a hoodie to run in the gym down on the basement without telling Nursey.

He gets back all gross and sweaty, half of him wanting to collapse into the abyss of the bed and the half of him wants to spend the rest of his life in a shower. 

“Where were you?” Nursey mumbles, he sits on the counter, eating cookies, “I was worried that you got lost on your run.”

“I went to the downstairs gym that you talked about.”

“ _ Oh _ .”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

“I don’t have to tell you about  _ every  _ single thing I do,” he says flatly, “you’re not my… you’re not my mum.”

Nursey’s face doesn’t shift, doesn’t change. It stays neutral.  _ Chill _ . That’s what Nursey is. But there’s something else underneath the surface, full of worry.

“Okay, sorry dude for like stepping on your toes,” he says  _ too  _ calmly. Dex senses more there, a deepening pool or sorrow.

Dex watches him retreat to his room.

He thinks about what he said.

_ Oh _ .

“Fuck,” Dex says outloud.

They were just eating ice cream on the floor last night, now it’s like thing’s shifted and changed. They’re back to being freshmen again. It hurts. But he doesn’t know how to apologise, all he’s known is quiet anger and nails digging into his palm, rubbing his calloused hands too tightly so he doesn’t punch a wall.

He walks around the kitchen for a long time.

He ends up calling Chowder.

“Hey pal.”

“You don’t say pal, Dex.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

Dex fiddles with the strings of his hoodie, “how do you apologise?”

“What?”

He makes his way to the bathroom and closes it behind him, it’s all white with dark grey tiles, there's accents of greens and greys here and there to soften up the bathroom. It’s big. The bathtub. The shower. The toilet. It probably costs more than his truck.

“I fucked up, really fucked up.”

“Dex… buddy… it’s probably something minor.”

He sits on the bathtub, like it’s a cocoon and it’s shrouding him with comfort, “doesn’t feel like it’s something minor. I’m not—I”m not good with words. But I said something and we all know that Nurse is a little bit sensitive and—”

“—you’re with Nursey?!” Chowder yells, it comes out all staticy from his speaker.

“ _ Don’t _ ,” Dex says, “long story, don’t want to get into it. But come on, help me out here.”

He hears something in the background, people moving around and more voices, “shit, I gotta go.”

“Don’t leave me man.”

“Just… say sorry. I don’t know. Give him some space.”

“Wait—”

He hangs up. 

  
And Dex is so lost. Because his words hurted him. Even though it doesn’t look like it, he’s walked the earth and seen what Nursey is, he knows who he is, through the little things he shows. 

He  _ still  _ doesn’t know what to do.

He showers with hot water, it marks his skin red and he scrubs a little bit harsher than he should. Dex thiniks. Maybe, he can apologise by giving him space, by not talking to him. Nursey probably hates him. He should’ve told him where he was. He  _ never  _ meant to say that

It feels like their tender moments are slipping away. Did they mean something? They could probably fix their friendship if they tried hard enough.

He spends his day locked away in his room. He does his holiday quizzes and passes them with no wrong answers. He does his coding project. But his mind wanders whenever he codes, he thinks of Nursey, alone in his room.

And it 

_ Hurts. _

It shouldn’t.

But it does.

When he looks outside of the window, he realises it’s already dark out. There’s the usual buzz of the city. Cars. Trains. Laughter from outside. White-teeth twenties out on their little night adventure. He wishes he was out there with them, that, maybe, if he can scrap enough money, he could go to arcades and maybe to the movies.

This is too much thinking for him, he goes out of his room and rummages through the kitchen for food. He cooks a simple pasta with carbonara sauce and leaves a plate for Nursey. It smells of sea salt and warmth, tasting of cream. When he was growing up, his dad made this for everyone during the weekends. It filled him with this soft warmth, wrapping it around him like a blanket.

It tastes like home.

And he thinks, that he doesn’t have a home anymore. Gone with the wind. Left like his dad. It’s prominent in his Facebook feed when he scrolls, people already blocking him from left to right. His relatives that he used to know, they’re all slowly going away from him. His mum doesn’t do anything. But it hurts when she does nothing. His uncle that works at the boat house, Bill, messaged him if he was fine. 

He answered yes.

His uncle responded with a smile emoji.

And that was close to pushing him to the edge. He pushes his plate away, phone in hand, looking at the clock. It’s somehow 2 in the morning, the time when secrets begin to seep its way out and lingers in the hallways, it’s when bad decisions rise.

He thinks about getting drunk, about the beer and wine cabinet. Just take the edge off. Drink and black out like his mum does every weekend. Everything feels too much, too dense, too heavy. Drinking helps too soften things. Make it a little bit easier to go through.

The grip on his phone starts to tighten.

It loosens, when he sees a post of his brother, posing a picture with his boyfriend on the beach. They look so  _ happy _ , the way that Jax looks at him like he’s his whole world. There’s tenderness that’s present, like they’ve known each other forever. But he starts to think about what happened after he left. Jax, he must’ve been so  _ lost  _ without him.

Dex was so stupid.

Everything breaks like an overfilled damn. 

When he was a teenager, he felt it by going into the ice and smashing pucks with his hockey stick. But he’s not young anymore, he’s almost 22, an  _ adult.  _ But after all this time he still feels like a child, just stuck in a bigger body. 

His nails cut into his palm and he begins to breathe sharply. Everything is catching up to him. What happens when he visits? His brother. His family.  _ Everything.  _ It feels like his lungs are collapsing and coming back to life, hands shaky. He can’t breathe properly. He needs to go. He gets up and tries to walk up the stairs. Dex leans against the wall and clutches his chest. 

He hears footsteps.

Dex ignores how it grows louder.

There’s a voice too.

“Dex, are you okay?” Nursey.  _ Nursey _ . He speaks it with such gentleness that he doesn’t deserve it.

If he speaks, he thinks he’ll break apart even more. 

“Dex—“

“—leave me alone,” he breathes out shakily, the door to his room, it’s three feet away from him, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

He’s spent years of his life not being fine. But hearing someone say those words...it unravels hours and hours of having to control his emotions himself. He feels like, if he takes another step, he would break apart and fall into pieces. Like his dad. A man full of barbed pieces. 

“I’ll put up with it—”

“—Can you just let me help you for god's sake!” Nursey yells, “you… you came all the way from Maine just to give me company,” he walks into Dex’s space, he wants to push him out, but a part of him wants him to come close to him, “so let me  _ fucking  _ you help you bastard.”

This man is trying to help him.

He wants to push him away.

But he also wants to push him to a hug.

He puts his hands into the pockets of his jeans, curling into fist around the wallet. His wallet, where his card only contains fifty bucks, and where he only has a couple of coins to pay for parking. Tucked between his wallets lies his two drivers license. The expired one, where he keeps it for sentimental value.

The photo on his 1st drivers license is: Outdated, bad, full of anger that comes from his stitches on his cheek that he played off as ‘falling off the stairs’

But the second one is: Happy, hopeful, the type of quiet joy that comes through his lips curled into a soft smile.

He thinks he can’t be both of them at once.

William Pointerdexter, is a man that sits with a fiery anger that can’t be settled. But grief of his youth and a sadness deeper than the ponds at his hometown breaks him. Nursey takes one more step and they somehow sit down on the floor, with Dex holding onto Nursey like he’ll somehow disappear into thin air.

Nursey shifts him while he pushes Dex’s head into chest, hearing him trying to contain his sobs that come out so broken and harsh, something that’s so unlike Dex. Dex straddles him, arms around his back tightening as he breathes in Nursey’s cologne, it’s earthy tones and sweet vanilla, it’s so  _ him _ .

He tries to make words, to form the words  _ sorry’s _ . But it comes out as wet breaths, shudders and gasps. 

“Just breathe,” Nursey hums.

He draws soft circles at his back like his brother once did.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to say between his sobs, “I—I w-was such a dick this morning.”

He doesn’t get a response. Dex focuses on himself, trying to bring back and piece it all back together. He needs something to focus on. Lists. That’s it.

He tries to steady his breathing.

And he makes a list.

One.

One.

One.

—

He doesn’t know how it happened, but he wakes up in the morning in his bed with a bottle of water on his bedside table. He takes it gladly as he tries to push through the heavy exhaustion that clings to him like a ball and chain.

He does his routine.

Dex showers.

Changes.

Checks his phone.

He also likes his brother’s new photo on facebook.

It’s cute.

He walks into the kitchen and sees Nursey all bleary eyed, still wearing his clothes from last night. When they lock eyes, Dex doesn’t know what to do, how to approach this. Should they talk? Or maybe they should just brush it under the rug and never talk about it. Cast it out to the wolves. Leave it to the dark. Throw it in jail.

That sort of thing.

“Hey,” Dex says.

“You okay?” Nursey response, so soft, so gentle, like a soft brush of skin against rough stone against the jagged cliffside.

They’re not throwing it out to sea, instead, they’re talking about it. Okay. This is fine.

“Yeah, I uh… think so.”

“Cool,” Nursey hums.

“Cool.”

Silence.

“We should get ready, we need to head back to Samwell,” Dex says.

“Okay,” Nursey says.

They don’t talk more about what happened. They lick his wounds and bandage all the hurt to little things, shoulders bumping or Nursey annoying him as he tries to cook breakfast, all while Nursey talks about how his Dad used to cook pancakes everyday. Nursey brews coffee for him in a very fancy machine. Dex takes it. He remembers how he likes it, all black and bold, with the tar liquid staring back at him.

“What the fuck is worng with you,” Nursey looks at his mug, “you’re a heathen, you know that.”

“That’s me,” Dex responds.

It’s so casual, the two of them. He goes to pack his things carefully, slotting his laptop between his softest things in his duffel bag. He meets Nursey at the living room, looking through the pantry, taking things and shoving them into his bags.

“What are you doing?”

“Well,” Nursey pauses, opening his fridge to take pre-packaged salads to take to the Haus, “it’ll be shame to leave all of this shit behind.”

“Why’s that.”

“Because you would hate it.”

“I would?” Dex says.

“Yeah. I see you cringe when like, Jack throws out leftover pie.”

“But Bitty does too,” Dex scoffs, pulling out his phone to check the group chat. Someone invited Whiskey, and he’s actually typing. Which is. Strange.

“It’s different with you bro,” Nursey responds, “we can eat them during our drive back.:

He’s spent a lot of time with Nursey, it’s his last year with him. He thought, that he would never see Nursey to be worrying about food. Nursey, who would usually gag at broccoli and refuse to eat leftovers, who  _ barely  _ sticks to his diet plan and eats too much sugar for his sake.

This man is worrying about wasting food. When he has mountains of riches to buy and more and more.

“Oh,” Dex responds, “okay.”

Nursey just laughs

—

Nursey complains about his truck as he shoves all of their things to the back seat. They eat their breakfast in the truck, letting the sounds of the city wash over them one last time. This used to be Dex’s dream, to live with no worries about money, get an apartment penthouse and waste away his life with things to fill his apartment and to live in comfort forever.

But this, just letting Nursey hum while New York grows smaller and smaller behind them is fine. The truck seems to smell of earl-grey tea and Nursey’s cologne, it’s oddly comforting. Dex eases and gets more comfortable, loosening on the pedal and driving with one hand on the wheel and the other trying to put Chowder on FaceTime.

They manage to set it onto a rickey stand, and Chowder answers them.

“Bro,” Chowder looks like he’s on a train, “what the fuck, why are you? What. Dex did you—”

“Say anything and I’ll cut your dick off,” Dex says.

“Huh?” Nursey hums, he chews on more walnuts from his hands, “what’s going on.”

“Nothing,” Dex says, “nothin’”

Chowders looks like he’s about to say something, but stops himself, chuckling as he fiddles with the wires of his headphones, “just gonna keep my mouth shut.”

“You better.”

Chowder laughs, “we’re good, I’m not gonna… say anything that will make me hate me or make you uncomfortable, you know that right Dex?”

Something thrums inside him, warmth. That, someone is respecting his boundaries, what he doesn’t want said. He never had that, everything was just spat out into the open and left to rot into the air. But here, he can have privacy. Chowder respects that. He never had that growing up.

“Anyways,” Chowder continues, “I’ve heard there were gonna be a couple of scouts for our next game in a couple of weeks.”

“Definitely not for me,” Nursey jokes, “can’t be shitted to do hockey professionally.”

“Props for Whiskey, maybe they’re scouting early,” Dex says.

“ _ Poindexter _ ,” Nursey points the packet of walnuts at him, “don’t fucking lie to yourself man they’re for  _ you _ .”

“You’re lying.”

“Dude… you’re like one of the best players on the team, with Whiskey being the first.”

That strikes him like thunder. Him. The man that grew up from a small town from Maine benign scouted for teams, who grew up working at his uncle's lobster boat and ended up having too many sunburns. Now here he is, having a chance to get a career out of  _ something _ .

He might actually get that dream of a penthouse in New York.

Living comfortably.

“It can’t be,” Dex breathes out, his heart skips a couple of beats while he bites down on his lower lip.

“You’re selling your short big man,” Nursey pats him on the shoulder, it’s stranger comforting.

“Sure,” he responds back, no malice… just playful banter. It’s like they’re going back to a sense of normality, a flow of things, just the two of them being friends again. Nursey hums and hums to a Frank Ocean song on the radio while Chowder rants about his upcoming Chinese exam, begging Nursey to help him.

He lets himself laugh sometimes, joining the conversation so easily. Nursey handfeeds him a few walnuts which ends up scattering across the chair and when he laughs, his face lights up a like a daisy. He thinks, that’s what fits Nursey. A daisy, a pretty little thing, bright but not too much, just the right type of thing.

He throws his head back and Dex realises they’ve been driving for a long time, now the sun hangs above them, brown skin bathing in soft light. His dimples show, the scruff on his chin, white teeth smile and his eyes changing from it’s usual dark green-grey, to a pretty forest green that if Dex isn’t too careful, he might get lost in.

It’s so Nursey.

It’s him, stripped of fancy things and fully to his core

And Dex thinks…  _ oh _ .

_ I think I might like him _ .

The long future sort of thing, full of dancing in the kitchen and falling asleep together under a blanket with their limbs tangled up. He thinks of kissing him in a cheap public bathroom and laughing until their lungs hurt. He thinks of Nursey, this man, reading Pride and Prejudice to him, saying the words:  _ Till this moment I never knew myself. _

He forces himself to look back onto the road, letting Chowder chirp at them. He lets them distract them, tries not to think of Nursey. He just keeps driving and driving, because the thought of liking  _ him  _ is something he can’t bear. He can’t… he can’t like boys. He’s  _ straight _ . He’s sure of that, after all of Dev’s usual conversation about sexualities in the kitchen, listing off how many identities they are.

He can’t be.

It dreads him, he bites down on his lip. He can’t like Nursey. He was an asshole to him at freshman year. He treated him like shit. He can’t like his friend. Dex doesn’t sneak in glances towards Nursey. He doesn’t. 

He doesn’t.

Yet… when Chowder hangs up and now the sun is nearing the end of the horizon, it highlights Nursey’s lips, in a thin line as he softly snores. He’s curling up near the door, head leaning against the window. He’s perfectly still… he’s… perfect. Perfect. Such a weird word, Dex thinks. When someone looks at his perfect skin, no one would know how clumsy Nursey is, or how he gets drunk when he gets on top of roofs.

His chest warms up, but he knows he shouldn’t get too hopeful. The grip on the steering wheel tightens like a vice. Nursey, he doesn’t  _ do  _ relationships, too fickle and too messy. He does hookups and one night stands. He flirts with everyone from time to time. He’s constantly moving, shifting like waters.

But Dex… he’s a cliffside with ragged sides, too stubborn, but he makes it up with scowls and aggression, tempered, unlike Whiskey. He  _ doesn’t  _ do relationships, because the thought of himself shaking off his clothes and letting someone in is terrifying. Feelings… they’re too messy and too fickle, too complex, unlike specific codes and commands.

A part of him wants that, however, to feel someone’s hands cupping his face so gently.

Perhaps, in another world, the waters chip away against the cliff and carves out a hole for the both of them.

He shakes his head and bites down on his lip.

They won’t work, he’s sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEX OMGOIJOIAJ  
> ok sorry for all of this 30k buildup, now i can get to the good part which is: two dumb boys slowly falling in love, and whiskey and dev development!!!! im so excited


	11. ugly truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY FOR BEING SO LATE OMG IM SORRY 
> 
> also i do apologise if the quality of this fic drops i was like rushing this adjaodsij
> 
> heads up dex's internalised homophobia/biphobia is like on full rise here so tread carefully

The gravel roads slowly turn into the usual clean, asphalt roads. Next to him Nursey slowly stirs awake, making a soft whining noise that Dex can’t help but smile at. Perhaps, in another life, he can hear that every day in the morning when they rise early in the morning and Nursey clings to him, telling him to stay for just a little bit longer, lie with him on the bed, five minutes turning into ten then into laughter.

  
He shakes the thought away. But he is panicking over himself, mind going haywire on labels and sexualities. Dex is straight. He knows that. Dex wasn’t thinking about boys when he kissed Samantha, or when they made out a couple of times. Or that when he was watching straight porn, he wasn’t thinking about dicks. And that other time when a famous celebrity came out as gay, and Dex never thought of doing something like that. 

So like, he’s straight. He _has_ to be, otherwise it’ll be another problem piled onto his life, another weight he has to log around and carry. He can’t… he can’t handle _that_. He’s not like the other guys in Samwell.

“Fucking hell,” Dex whispers, he parks his truck into the driveway and sighs.

“You good Dexy?” Nursey hums.

It doesn’t help that Nursey says _Dexy_ , it’s adorable, but that’s not the whole point. He bites his lip and looks away, getting out of the car and yelling at Nursey to get up and take his stuff. Nursey tells him to chill, and Dex can almost pretend that they’re just the same as before. Except, something’s changed between them.

It’s not Nursey.

It’s _Dex_ . It’s just _him_ and nothing else, he hates that he’s liking someone that he can’t have.

They take their bags and notice Whiskey reading a book in the living room. It’s a rare sight to see him out of his room, not locked away in his vast, empty room, slumped over a textbook while listening to heavy rock music.

“Yo Whiskey!” Nursey says, it disturbs Whiskey’s peace, “where’s Devy?”

“He left a few minutes ago to get something from the shops,” Whiskey says, he excuses himself that he needs to go back to his own room. The both of them watches Whiskey retreat back into his own room, hearing the door slam behind him. Dex and Nursey look at each other with a look that maybe, perhaps, something’s happening between Whiskey and Devy.

He can see it in the way that the both of them text in the groupchat, usually short, but soft and sweet. 

“You think—”

“—that maybe they’re in a relationship, yes,” Dex shrugs, he looks away and goes to his room to put back his clothes into his closet, carefully placing his laptop on top of his desk and sighing. His plants didn’t die (he’ll have to thank Devy for taking care of them) he looks over to his timetable and decides that maybe, if he can distract himself, he can forget about Nursey.

Him.

It _always_ leads to him.

He hates it.

He shakes his head and gets his potted plants to get their needed sunlight. He sets the five of them on the window sill. Dex stretches his fingers and checks off his mental list but it’s quickly broken by Chowder and Devy entering the Haus. He’s pulled into a bone-crushing hug from Chowder, full of snickering and dopey smiles from him.

“Hey man,” Chowder says, “I don’t want to intrude but… dude… did you really go all the way to New York to keep _him_ company.”

_Him_

_Goddamn Derek Nurse_

He watches Devy walk into the kitchen, he takes a deep breath and hopes that his whole world doesn’t collapse in front of him if he says the wrong word, that it’ll all break what he thought he knew about himself. He just has to give a simple answer. Say that he _wanted_ to give him some company, for Nursey to not be alone, walking in the hallways and letting his fingers knock the giant walls.

Somehow though, it feels like an impossible task.

“I did,” is all he manages to say.

“Cool, that’s really nice of you Dex. You should be like that more often.”

“Fuck off.”

“Chowder!” Nursey hums.

Everything in Dex wants to leave, that existing in the same space as him is going to burst him into flames. He still doesn't quite understand this whole _thing_ , but he stays put, watching Nursey pull Chowder into a quick hug before going off about how they should throw a party for the sake of it since this is their last semester.

Devy finally enters the conversation and nods along. He reminds him of Nursey a little, with his cheeks and his laughter and stupid jokes. But he doesn't have those dimples when he laughs, showing his white teeth smile. He doesn't have Nursey’s scruff, he lights up differently than Nursey. He laughs differently when Chowder makes a joke.

He stares at Whiskey instead.

The more he stares, the more it feels like he’s suffocating, sinking. Nursey is like an enigma, made of poetry and stupid jokes along with his clumsiness. He wants to stare more, but each time he bears more into his details the more harder it gets to breathe. 

He needs to distance himself from Nursey.

“I gotta go do my holiday homework it’s like due in an hour,” Dex excuses himself, “I’m down with the party just… m-make sure to run it by Denice.”

“Wait Dex, come on bro really?” Nursey puts his hands up, “Chowder just got here.”

“Sorry,” he hums, smiling weakly, hoping it’s enough to get Nursey off his dick. This is him, Dex. Retreating back to his old self, quiet and awkward, push him a few more times will reveal a seething magma that could melt everything that it could touch. That’s how he is, an angry little thing that has not quite cooled down properly. 

The thought terrifies him, is this what he’s going to be like _forever?_

He retreats into his room and piles himself with quizzes and does his own project that he’s been working on in his spare time. Nursey isn’t there when Dex is trying to fix errors in his code, or when he’s looking over the new stuff on his Google Classroom. He doesn't buzz in the back of his head when Dex turns up the music on his old high school playlist. Nursey isn’t there, like an afterthought when Dex decides this is too much and decides to take a nap.

His body doesn’t come to him in his dream.

Yet, throughout all of that, Derek _fucking_ Nurse is there all the time. Dex was just good at ignoring him. But right now, he’s there, like he thought that maybe if he sleeps, he can avoid him. He can’t, he comes alive in front of him, skin to skin, lingering phantom touches on his cheek, on his neck, on his lips.

A part of him wants to hate it.

But he doesn’t.

———

He wakes up in a sweat and when he looks at his phone, he realises it’s late into the afternoon. Dex groans, ruffling his hair and hoping that Nursey is still in his room, doing stupid shit like poetry. His mind is a tangle of wires, filling up with _what ifs_ and _him_ and the future. It shouldn’t fill up with other things.

Dex should be thinking about the future. Not him. 

When he steps into the hallway he notices that there’s more bags and suitcases in the living room, apparently more people arrived when he was asleep. He bites his lip and goes to whip up a quick apple crumble in the kitchen when he spots Devy, in sweatpants and a grey puma hoodie as he texts on his phone.

And it’s good timing too, maybe he can ask Devy about things. Maybe untangle the mess in his mind to convince himself that he does not _like_ Derek Nurse and he’s confusing it with something else. That he’s _definitely_ straight and nothing else. Devy can _fix_ him, Dex can ask questions that can help him unravel… _this_ . Because he’s _queer_ , and he’s heard of his horrible hookup stories which includes _every_ gender. So maybe, he knows a little bit of this… panic.

“Hey Devy?” He says, his voice comes out awkward and strange, not like a captain’s, “can I ask you something?”

He sounds pathetic.

  
Devy doesn’t say _what’s up_ like Nursey or anyone else. Instead he pockets his phone, looks at Dex in his state: fiddling with his fingers and tired as hell.. 

  
“Sure,” he says, there’s a soft smile on his face, it’s genuine. Dex realises he’s a combination of Bitty, Nursey and some of Chowder’s reincarnation of three am moments. He’s kind… too kind. 

“I-I just… I uh…” Dex is stuttering, however Devy is just waiting for him to continue, Dex thinks this kid is too good-hearted, “I…”

“Hey,” Devy pipes, “if you’re like… not in the whole space to like, ask and all it’s fine, we can just run to clear your head if you want. I know that because I’m a psych major.”

“Don’t you do sociology as well?”

“I minor on it.”

Dex realises that he _also_ has bits of Shitty in him too. This kid is too good to be true.

After hassling some sneakers and a hoodie the both of them are already out the door, with Devy flashing his smile that’s so _him_ , a combination of Chowder’s big toothy smile and Nursey’s eat shitting smirk. It results in a fun, but genuine and soft smile that Dex can’t help but return the favour back at him.

He notices how fast Devy is that Dex has to push himself a lot harder to keep up with him. No wonder why he’s paired with Whiskey.

“Do you still want to ask me whatever you’re going to ask me back then?” Devy asks, he takes out one of his earbuds and wipes the sweat from his forehead, his black wispy curly hair sticking to the dampness of his skin.

“It’s fine, I think,” Dex says. It’s not fine actually, “I’ll be fine, I can work it out.”

Devy eyes him weirdly before they turn the corner, “that’s fine, I was gonna go on a run with Whiskey anyway. But he’s retreated back to his room,” he sighs, “like I think I know how he ‘works’, and your advice about how I should have patience with him really helped. Like the more I spend time with him, the more I really begin to see why he acts like that and how that intertwines with his childhood—”

“—this isn’t a therapy session, stop psychoanalyzing the poor guy,” Dex deadpans.

“Sorry, it’s a habit of mine.”

“You’re really fucking weird.”

“I know. I know,” Devy hums, “it’s just that… he’s a really genuinely nice guy under all of… _that_.”

“I know what you’re talking about,” Dex takes out his left earbud to listen to him.

“He’s really nice, and sweet under that stone cold face. Which I really think is like a defense mechanism, but I digress.”

“Only Bitty could _really_ get through to him before, but it’s different with you. You don’t have to work hard to understand him.”

Devy looks at him, “what do you mean?’

“Like… you really seem to care about him, that it feels… normal for you to be around him. Even going so far as to stay with him in the Haus over the break, which is nice actually, normally people are scared of staying in the Haus over the holidays.”

“I really didn’t want to go all the way to L.A to see live with my _tita_ and—”

“—stop lying.”

“Sorry,” Devy says.

“You apologize a lot.”

“Sorry,” Devy says again.

“Me too.”

There’s a pause as they round another corner, the sun setting behind the suburban houses. Whatever hits the light is cast in a golden haze, and what doesn’t blooms with a deep blue haze, deepening with a tinge of violet. Usually during this time Nursey would be reading, either in the living room, eyebrows furrowed as he digs deeper into the characters, sometimes tabbing the pages or typing something in his laptop.

“Dude,” Devy says, “you seem really off, you sure you don’t wanna talk about it.”

_Him_.

_He can’t like him_.

“No,” Dex says too quickly, “no I’m fine but listen,” he knows what he’s doing, switching the topic to someone else, “you be careful with that boy.”

“You sound like my dad.”

“I don’t know what happened to him or whatever your intentions are with him but take care of him.”

“I’m not dating him!” Devy says a little too loud, Dex looks at his face, it’s deepening with a tinge of red. If Nursey was here, he would push just a little bit more to peer into the secrets. But he knows how important secrets are, hiding it in the deepest corners of your room where you could at least pretend that it’s not there.

And by the way Devy is flustered… yeah they definitely fucked or Devy is absolutely smitten over him.

“Okay,” Dex says.

  
“Okay.”

——

The plans for that _stupid_ party is well underway, apparenlty Lardo showed up out of nowhere and is yelling at Chowder to help her with the streamers and decorations for the party. But he doesn’t care about that.

All he cares about is trying to avoid Nursey.

And he’s doing a good job of that over the past few days, staying in his room and already drowning in homework. Dex only goes out of his room when he has to, quickly dashing into the bathroom, making quick pies in the middle of the night, going for a run during the crack of dawn.

But he knows he can’t avoid him forever, it’s inevitable, like a car crash in slow-motion. He’s stuck, feeling the seatbelt dig into his chest. Dex is a coward, he knows that, but he can’t deal with that the fact that he _could_ like him, and do stupid shit like kiss him and gross stuff.

He can’t do that. Nursey hated him in their freshman year, he was an asshole to him. They were like water against fire, or the tides that foam and crash against the cliffside. Dex’s opinion that was deep-rooted from falling into the alt-right pipeline was fixed by Shitty, Bitty and Nursey.

They’re fine now, but one year doesn’t fix three or maybe two from their personalities clashing like water against fire. They’ll awkwardly click togher, and that grip will slowly wither away within a month or two. So it’s better for him to stay quiet, he thinks. He can swallow down his secret and live with it, he only has one more semester to go. Dex can deal with it. It’s fine.

Totally fine.

What’s not fine is that he’s on Nursey patrol.

He wants to bury himself in sand and never come out.

The party slowly rolls in and apparently Bitty, Holster and Ransom are nearby. They get to the party early, where nervous freshmen are shaking in their red cups (they really shouldn’t be drinking). They close the door behind him and envelop Dex into a tight hug, it’s strangely comforting, he won’t admit that.

“Where’s Shitty?” Dex asks as Chowder is enveloped by Bitty’s hug.

“He’s like knee-deep in case studies so he couldn’t come,” Lardo hums, “so everyone’s saved from his _tub juice_.”

Random and Holster squirm at the word. Meanwhile Devy finally rolls in, pushing the sleeves of his Samwell hoodie up to his elbow and wiping the dust off jeans. He’s been fixing some things around the house while Dex was busy wallowing in his own room.

“What the fuck is the tub juice,” Devy intercepts, he takes a sip of his ‘lemonade’ with from his red cup. Goddamnit Chowder—

“Dude, you’re lucky you didn’t join Samwell when Shitty was around,” Ransom says, he fistbumps Devy, “that shit was fucking foul as hell, anyone who drunk it lowkey got alcohol poisoning.”

“Remember when I drank it bro,” Holster cuts in, “and you like… skipped half of your classes to take care of me.”

“ _Bro_ ,” Ransom replies.

Chowder makes an adorable face at the both of them.

“Are they dating?” Devy whispers.

“We actually don’t know,” Dex whispers back, “but apparently they drunkenly made out with each other at one point.”

“Oh so it’s a slowburn friends to lovers thing,” Devy takes another sip, “it looks like it’s in it’s final act though.”

Dex sighs, wanting to reach for his back pocket and take a swig of his flask. They eventually move into the living room, where Devy is in a deep conversation about Lardo’s art. Chowder is geeking out in front of Holster and Ransom while Dex just sits on the floor, watching the fairy lights blink above him while more and more people walk in.

There’s a sinking feeling that festers inside him. He wants it gone.

Louis is in charge of the music that blares while Hops and Bully surround him, laughing. He needs to leave, to go. Nursey isn’t here yet, he can go wherever the fuck he pleases anyways. He gets up and finally takes a sip of his flash, feeling the buzz wash over him, calming him just a little bit so he can deal with the crowd of people better.

He busies himself by staring at people, standing on the corner. High school him would’ve been drunk now, staring at pretty girls and thinking that maybe, if he had enough courage back then, he would have flirted with them like the kids at his age are doing right now. Dex would’ve fallen in love with his high school sweetheart, get married at 21, have three kids at 26 and be stuck at a 9-5 job everyday.

Like a perfect, normal southern couple.

And right now one of the volleyball girls is staring at him, she’s pretty, with fawn skin and a pretty smile. Her hair is platinum blonde, tied up in a lazy ponytail. When she bites her lip and looks at him, he thinks, _she’s_ pretty. He could have a hookup with her, just something to take his mind off, let someone else distract him. But he feels out of league with his red flannel and jeans, against her baggy jeans and white crop top.

He could do it.

But he’s _terrified_ of letting someone in.

He walks back to where Chowder was, he sees her frown at the corner of his eyes. Dex is sure she could find a quick hookup in the party. He squeezes past the sea of bodies, the weird stench of expensive perfume mixing in with axe deodorant and beer. Dex goes on his toes, calling for Chowder.

But he watches him get pulled away by Farmer.

Everyone’s gone on the couch.

And he’s all alone.

He grimaces and squeezes himself into the kitchen. However, he feels his whole heart drop to the floor.

Because five feet in front of him is Nursey, dancing with a random girl. He’s wearing a singlet, the sheen of sweat on his arm glistening in the hues of the colours from the fairy lights. He’s wearing a cap backwards and his hoodie is tied around his waist, letting more skin to skin contact with him and the girl. They share a bubble that fills up with flirting and lust, looking for hookups.

That’s what Nursey looks for anyway, hookups. That’s fine. That’s his thing. So why is Dex seething with quiet anger? He thinks it’s from the buzz of beer (he’s not drunk, but still), but maybe it’s something else. Dex bites on his lower lip, his breathing getting shallower and shallower with each second.

The walls are closing on him.

He needs to leave.

  
But, it’s like the whole world stops within a split of second. Because in the corner of his eyes he sees the flash of grey-green eyes looking at him. Stupidly, he looks back at him too. There it is, the car crash, the contact of an immovable object meeting with an unstable object. It’s not like that though.

Instead it’s the first leaves making contact with the new day, blooming vanillas and dandelions under the sun-seeped forest. It’s a reminder that they could be sweet, they _could_ be something.

The bubble pops and time slurs back in. Dex walks away. The teasing promise of _something_ leaves a bitter taste in Dex’s tongue. He moves past the sweat of bodies, the music pounds inside his head and he feels like a child all over again, brimming with some sort of _anger_. He gets out the house, the soft breeze and the muted buzz of music is a welcome change.

He can breathe.

Behind him the door opens again, the stench of beer and sweat wafting outside. 

“What the fuck?” Nursey says, he closes the door behind him. It’s just the two of them now, along with the distant noise of traffic and flickering street lights. Dex stands under the yellow hue of the street light, “Dex do you hate me or something? Spit it the fuck out because you’ve been avoiding me for the past few days.”

“Why don’t you go back to being drunk with your girlfriend,” he says out of spite.

“Oh _fuck_ off, I can’t have a little bit of fun?” Nursey scoffs, brimming with quiet animosity, “do you realise I’ve been _texting_ you, looking for you this whole time Poindexter?”

He does, however he’s been ignoring him, “okay, here I am,” Dex crosses his arms, “you saw me, now go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I can’t get drunk without you!” Nursey yells, he’s getting close to Dex now, a part of him wants to shove him away, “I’ve been sober the whole entire time because my _partner_ is too preoccupied doing stupid shit.”

“Well I’m _sorry_ that I don’t want to put up with your bullshit,” Dex scoffs, “go get drunk, climb the roof for all I care.”

Within a split of second, he sees something swim in Nursey’s eyes, a flash of pain. He quickly hides it by pointing his finger at Dex, “why are you like this? What the fuck happened to you?” Dex realises Nursey’s crying a little, he’s wipes it away before he continues, “you _drove_ all the way from your family to keep me company. And then… that’s fucking gone, what the fuck happened to you.”

It strikes Dex deep, it’s like a knife that twists its way into the flesh of his muscles and into his brittle heart.

It.

Hurts.

“Fuck off,” Dex says, he shoves him away from him, “you don’t know a single _shit_ about me and how I grew up. Don’t you dare tell me what’s wrong with me.”

“Then why the _fuck_ are you avoiding me then?” Nursey says.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Yes you can,” Nursey says like it’s most easiest thing to do, “just spit it out.”

“Get away from me,” Dex shoves him away.  
  


“Then tell me why you’ve been avoiding me then,” Nursey says again, “tell me, then I’ll go. We won’t ever speak of this stupid _shit_ again.”

“Nursey—”

“—tell me what’s wrong and I’ll leave you alone in the bitter fucking cold.”

There’s a pause between them, they look at each other, face seeped with the sickly yellow light. Somewhere in the street a dog barks. A train honks. Nursey puts his hands up in defeat, Dex can see how much he’s been crying now. He wants to wipe it away with his calloused hands.

“Just tell me for god’s sake Dex—”

“—It’s because I love you!”

There it is.

Out in the open.

And it sits like an ugly stain against a clean, white carpet. Everything is falling apart in front of him, everything he builds up is collapsing at the seams. He’s not hurt that the countless lies he’s told himself is turning into rubble, or the things he’s repressed is finally coming undone. It’s not that.

It’s how Nursey looks at him.

Hurt.

Suprised.

Everything around him is starting to become foreign, unfamiliar. So he does the only thing he knows, a thing that he’s done countless times..

He runs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT HAPPENED BITCHES AAOIDJASDOIAJOI FINALLY OMG i was dying when i wrote the last few lines, after the few chapters of this i can finally get to the fluffy bits and nurseydex banter/flirting omggggg i can't wait!!!


	12. reflections in the water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter goes into detail of some of dex's struggles, heads up for some biphobia i think?
> 
> also for the next chapter i'll be exploring some of dex in sophmore year, and as a bipoc it makes me really uncomfortable when i read in fics when dex is written to have microaggressions to nursey and be a little racist to him, then have him apologise to nursey as a part of his charcter development? It makes me so uncomfrtable and weird, and puts the idea that you HAVE to forgive people due to their past acton. Dex was never racist to Nursey in the comics (as far as I know) and they hated each other beccause dex didn't know the difference between class privellege and how their personalities clashed, thats it. I want to explore this differently, with the introduction of him falling into the alt right pipeline and how it affected him to this day (it'll explain everything in the next chapter), so just a headsup!

When he’s running in the darkness of the night, he thinks. 

That he lied to himself.

All this time.

Here’s the thing though, his friend back at Maine, the one that grew with bright colours at the seams. There were times when after one drink with the hockey team, Dex would stumble blindly in the street, he would call him on his shitty phone. He remembered how he talked breathy to his nokia. He wasn’t drunk  _ drunk _ , but then he hoped he would forget it in the morning and blame the hickey on his neck from a bruise from practise.

He forgot most of them, under the guise of the buzz of the cheap beer.

But there was one time where he wasn’t drunk when he climbed into his window. There he was, reading a fucking book. He looked… so… perfect, under the moonlight, shadows carved out the features of his nose, he emanated of all things soft and beautiful. He wore his stained hoodie and his sweatpants, ruffled hair like he’s been waiting for Dex to climb into his room.

_ I think I like you _ , Dex said.

But instead he said: “Hey.”

_ I love you so much _ , he said.

But it comes out as: “Dude.”

There was a flash of teeth in the darkness, Dex can feel his blue eyes bearing into him. They’re deep, flush with the clear oceans that he rambled about. They talked about how they would go there one time, together. 

Now thinking about in the present day, with his lungs heaving and tears that prick the corners of his eyes he’s thinking of in another life, they could’ve loved each other. They would’ve made a stupid, shitty plan of running. They would’ve ran away into the night. He would complain about the smell of subways while Dex would’ve rolled his eyes. They would’ve made out and really disgusting public bathrooms and loved each that it was all the things that the movies described.

They would’ve smoothed out their quirks and disagreements, maybe cooled down Dex’s temper and grew old together.

But they didn’t.

He’s just a distant memory now.

But it was just one thing, and that doesn't make him  _ not  _ straight. He’s not like  _ that _ . But then when he thinks it over again, because the gift of logic is  _ such  _ a wonderful thing. He thinks it a third time. Then a fourth time.

Then a fifth.

He thinks; straight people probably don’t question whether they're straight or not.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, sittong on the curb and panting, his lungs grasping for air. He’s an idiot. He’s an  _ absolute  _ idiot for falling in love with his d-man, goddamn Derek Nurse. Who has tattoos that litters his upper right arm. His lips mutters quiet poetry about forbidden love while substituting some words with spanish (fucking pretentious, Dex thinks), he’s a magnet of accidents, he talks about anti-communism propaganda with Shitty when they change in the lockers and he’s so full of… life.

That Dex thinks he can’t have.

“Dex?” A voice calls out.

Five feet next to him is Whiskey, sitting in front of now a closed Annie’s. They both look pathetic, he thinks that the gods are punishing him. They must be doing the same to Whiskey.

“What are you doing here?” Dex replies. He looks at Whiskey, his face shadowed by a hood. Though he can see bits of his face, the streaks of light that comes from the lamppost above them coats them with a tinge of old gold. He can see his eyes look puffy, a bit red. Cheeks damp. He’s been crying.

It feels invasive looking at him. Dex looks back at his palms.

“Wanna talk about why you’re sitting on the curb at one am?” Dex tries again, lightly nudging Whiskey on the shoulder.

“I could ask the same thing as you,” Whiskey chirps back, it drips with a little bit of malice, not too much. Dex sighs, he doesn’t know how to do this whole…  _ captain  _ thing.

“You’re right…” Dex says, he looks at the road, across the street where shops are closing. A car passes by, picking up a plastic cup and sends it to Dex’s feet. He kicks it away, “I’m… not good at this stuff.”

“And I said early this year we don’t have to do this whole  _ thing _ .”

“I know,” Dex says, “but like… dude if freshman year saw me right now he would probably sucker punch me in the face.”

It gets a soft snicker from Whiskey.

“But I want to at least… try,” Dex continues, “I was fucking angry and a shithead like you. I see myself in you. But don’t take it personal, kid, you can like talk to me about anything… if you want and stuff that you’re comfortable with—”

“—I kissed him,” Whiskey blurts out.

“Oh…” Dex says, “nice?”

“No, not fucking nice,” Whiskey buries his face into his hands, “you think that we both hooked up at one point but we didn’t. I kissed him, in the stupid fucking party. I s-shouldn’t have done that, I-I didn't know what to do. We were playing spin the bottle, thinking that if I can kiss girls then… t-that means that I  _ can  _ like girls. Then it landed on him…I kissed him… then I ran away.”

Whiskey pauses, trying to catch his breath.

“I told my girlfriend… back home before the holidays started about my…  _ situation _ ,” he squeezes his knees close to his chest like Dex does when he’s overwhelmed, “about what I felt. I-it was really fucking stupid… she outed me and everything, so it’s like trickling down to my extended family and everything.”

He doesn't know what to do, but all he says is, “fucking hell.”

“Yeah…” Whiskey says, “so that’s why I stayed back at the Haus.”

“It’s nice,” Dex says, “that Devy stayed with you.”

“Only because he had to,” Whiskey mumbles, he loosens a little bit and meets Dex’s eyes, “he was going on and on about how it takes too long to get a plane back to L.A.”

“It sounds like he was making up excuses,” Dex says, “you know he  _ really  _ fucking cares about his family back home, right? Like that kid literally talks to his family everyday and he doesn’t give two shits if it’s at the living room or just before practise. He  _ gushes  _ about his mum and dad, and his brothers and shit.”

Dex sighs before he continues, “so, you’re probably  _ really  _ important for him that he puts you before his family— _ don’t interrupt me _ —that kid… really cares about you. I’m serious. He sticks to you like gum everyday.”

“If he cares about me he wouldn’t have looked at me like he just made the  _ worst  _ decision of his life after kissing me.”

“I don’t think he hates you,” Dex says, “he’s just shocked dude.”

Whiskey doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, “I sound so pathetic right now.”

“The both of us look pathetic right now,” Dex says, he knows what Whiskey’s doing, trying to shift the subject to something else, he lets him do it.

“What about you?”

“Huh,” Dex says. 

“Why are you out here like me,” Whiskey pulls out his phone, face blooms with a blue light, “did something happen?”

He’s been caught up with helping Whiskey that he forgot his own shit. Now it’s like a shock to his system, like stepping into the freezing waters of the pond with no warning. Dex tries to push out the words, if Whiskey could do it, he can.

“I got into an argument,” Dex says, just barely above a whisper, “with Nurse. It was my fault, really.”

Whiskey stays quiet, Dex looks at the lines on his palm. Usually he would be working, not much time for parties. It would be: Darkened by dust. Calloused by working. But there’s no specks of soot, only calloused. He wonders, if it fits well within Nursey’s hands. He wonders, if it’s like a cool air meeting with the roaring, thundering seas. Or if it’s something else? Maybe a gust of wind sending ripples across of a now quiet pond, calmed by quiet years.

“I’m sorry,” Whiskey says.

“And I said something that I shouldn’t have so I ran away like an idiot,” Dex says.

“I wish I could say something to make you feel better.”

“Same,” Dex says, “I’m not like… Bitty. I don’t have advice to give out for. Hell, I can barely handle my rage sometimes. I’m sorry, for not being like Bitty.”

“It’s fine,” Whiskey says, “it’s nice… to get this off my chest.”

There's a beat that pauses between them. It’s not the awkward type… it’s the nice kind, where the both of them are content with existing in the same space at the same time with each other. 

“You don’t want to get back to the Haus don’t you?” Dex asks.

“No,” Whiskey says too quickly, “where are we gonna sleep for the night.”

“I didn’t think of that.” 

Out of the corner of his eye Jack’s Jeep turns the corner and stops in front of them, he can hear a faint Beyonce song as the tinted windows roll down.

It’s not Jack’s head that pops out of the window though.

It’s Bitty.

“How the hell did you find us?” Dex says, he stands up, feeling flustered in front of his ex-captain while he brushes the dust from his knees.

“I still have Dex in my tracking app from last year,” Bitty smiles sheepishly while he turns down the music, “look, I don’t know what happened, I was catching up with Denice in the kitchen with wine— _ please don’t tell her I’m driving she will kill me _ —but I’m sure nothing but my pies can fix! Let’s get you two home.”

“Uh…” Dex scratches his elbow.

“Is it  _ that  _ bad?” Bitty raises his eyebrows, “god you two reek of beer.”

“Yeah,” Whiskey deadpans, “w-we don’t want to go back to the Haus.”   
  


“Oh,” Bitty hums, “no worries, you can sleep in my AirBnb that I’m renting out with Holster and Ransom.”

“Bitty you don’t have to—”

“Look boys,” Dex already knows, Bitty is putting on his mum's voice, “I don’t know what happened, and I’m hoping that Dex didn’t rip out Nursey’s hair or Whiskey… I don’t even want to know what you did, Whiskey. I trust that you  _ two _ will sort this out. Got it?”

Dex feels like he’s in front of his mum, he simply just nods. Whiskey does the same. They get into the car, the inside all black leather and warm. Bitty hums to the radio. The two of them sit at the back, too scared to face Bitty’s interrogation to sit at the front. Dex checks his texts, a couple from Chowder asking where he’s been, another from Devy asking where Whiskey is.

The last one is from Nursey.

His heart drops.

**_Nursey_ **

_ Hey  _

_ I’m so sorry _

_ Dex _

_ I’m sorry. _

_ Come back to me please. _

_ We can talk about this tomorrow, maybe. Or you the next week or the week after, you can set the time. I’m sorry if I did anything wrong, I didn’t mean to, I guess. You’re like probably reading these messages thinking how much you hate, that’s fine, I think. I just want to know if you’re safe. _

_ Call me back, please. _

“You okay there Dex?” Bitty says, he meets his eyes when he looks up at the rearview mirror. He catches his own reflection, eyes shiny and misty.

“I’ll be fine.”

———

When they arrive, Dex ignores that Holster and Ransom fell asleep on the couch, tangled up in each other.

Bitty shoves them into a guest bedroom with an ensuite.

Dex takes a blanket from the closet and a pillow from the bed, and for a moment, in the darkness of the room he realises this was  _ just  _ like him and Nursey sharing a hotel room. 

“You sure you don’t want to sleep on the bed?” Whiskey says, “I can sleep on the bathtub if you want, or like maybe make a pillow barrier between us.”

“No I'm… I’m fine,” Dex says, “you get your sleep, kid.”

“Stop calling me a kid, I'm a legal adult.”

Dex flips him off as he closes the door behind him.

It’s just a normal bathroom, with grey cold tiles that shocks his feet and soft blue accents softening the colours. He sets the blanket and pillow down onto the bathtub, it’s a bit small, not made to house a d-man the size of him. But he fits by curling on himself just a little, hands against his chest, feeling his faint heartbeat.

He has time to think now.

Usually he would bury himself with work or fixing something to keep his mind busy, not let a single thought rise. But he can’t, he’s stuck on staying on pause. Now the thoughts are rising like bile, something that’s sick.

He bites down on his lips.

William Poindexter is a man that falls in love too much, that’s the thing. It may not look like it, but he does. All of it is just hiding under the walls and spikes, beneath the scattered piles of junk and brick walls. His body isn’t made for love, he has too much of it, he thinks. He falls in love with everyone he meets, and he pushes them away with a scowl.

But he remembers a couple, it’s rising now from the sof hum of the heater.

Samantha Dixon, who has black hair and black eyeliner and cuts her own bangs. Back at his Junior chemistry class, he would always see her with sweatpants and a hoodie. Her hair would be a little messy, but she looks so…  _ soft _ . A definition of vulnerability, eyebags and acne, she would snort when she laughs when his teacher makes a joke. She was… everything.

They made out one time, it was his first kiss. That was the day she moved schools too. 

Phoebe Smarts, a girl in his freshmen computer programming class. She had smooth skin, colour of the darkened sea, with pink box braids and a big smile that fits her bubbly personality. She would laugh with her group of friends, the air would lift with ease when she spoke. Chowder caught him looking from time to time, sometimes smacking him on the back of the head to keep himself back on the game.

She’s still in Samwell. Though he thinks she’s changed her classes now.

And there was this other girl, Dex doesn’t know her name. He met at the Junior Kegster, she was putting up a fight against Lardo in beer pong. She was all sweaty, strands of her curly black hair sticking to her forehead. She was full of fun, loose, something that wasn’t him but he  _ wanted _ . She was something that Dex needed, a complete change of personality, a switch. Opposites attrat. All that stuff.

She left the party pretty early. He never got her number.

And there was  _ him _ . The boy that was close to him all this time back at Maine.

That boy.

That took his breath away with just a single press of a kiss on his neck.

His name was Jonathan, and he was a storm that rages in the waters, reincarnated into flesh. 

  
And no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, Nursey is slotting himself into place with all the people he’s liked. Mainly girls, but now the boy count is up to two.

Derek Nurse, his D-partner. He knows a little bit too much about politics and needs someone to look out for him when he gets drunk. He has these dimples that sometimes shows, he conditions his beard and is an absolute unit when it comes to checking some of the frog’s essays. He can’t cook. He breathes money everywhere he goes.

And he’s absolutely stupid.

Dex is stupider for falling in love with him.

He rubs at his eyes, groaning to himself out loud. Derek  _ fucking  _ Nurse, the thought of his name makes him think of what he thought was something that was untenable. Waking up in each other’s arms and cooking pancakes, their kitchen would smell of all things sweet and nice. They would be so… good together, like two halves of a single piece, finally bound together by a ring.

No matter how hard he tries to groan out loud, he can’t get the image of Nursey out of his mind.

———

When he wakes up, Holster is standing on the doorway. 

“Hey man,” he says, holding out black coffee for a peace offering.

He stumbles up, blinking the sleep away, “I know what Bitty is doing. No I’m not gonna talk about it,” he takes a swig of the coffee in one go, it burns his throat on the way down, and sits like a heavy thing inside his stomach that drags him down.

“Okay dude,  _ Chill _ .”

_ Chill _

His cheeks flush with red as he goes to check his phone. Just texts from Denice. He can deal with her wrath later.

“Oh…when I said  _ chill _ , I sounded like...” Holster chuckles, “oh shit… oh my fucking god. Yoooo—William Poindexter—my main man—”

“—please don’t tell anyone,” Dex massages the bridge of his nose.

  
“Yo, it’s cool. We’re good. We’re gucci. I won’t tell a soul, not even Ransom,” Holster pauses, looking at him in the mirror, “you look like shit though. Five minutes to freshen up, you don’t wanna look like shit in front of your—”

“—okay get out, shoo.”

Holster does leave.

Dex stares at his face in the mirror. He wipes away the damp streaks of tears off his cheeks—he didn’t even know he cried last night—with water, he tries to make his hair not look like shit. And when he does, he finds his eyes bearing onto him.

In the gentle sunlight that comes through the tiny window on the top-right corner. He notices his eyes, liquid gold, matching his freckles against his pasty skin. He remembers how Nursey would tease him, for his big ears, or his freckles. It was void of malice. Dex would just roll his eyes. But he remembers how sometimes, Nursey wrote poetry,  _ good poetry _ .

A part of him wants to ask what Nursey would write about him. How he would space out the stanzas, where to put the italics. Each word placed with care and hope—

“Yo Dex!” Holster calls out, “we have to check out of the AirBnb soon, hurry your ass up.”

He does hurry up.

Whiskey says to drop him off at Annie’s. Bitty gives him a five minutes lecture before they leave.

“Can I go with Whiskey—”

“—no,” Bitty says, “Dex, you’re the captain now, young man,” he says when they roll up to the Haus, “so I’m putting hope that you clean up whatever you did, and I’m assuming that it’s with Nursey. Be kind to that boy, please.”

Next to him, Ransom is looking through his emails. Meanwhile Holster gives him a thumbs up.. He opens the door and gets out, Lardo meets his eyes when she exits the Haus.

“Don’t burn the house down,” Bitty says to him.

“What did he do?” Lardo asks, he climbs onto the Jeep.

Dex wishes for a quick, painless death.

“I don’t know, bless his heart.”

“I'm still here.”

“Go,” BItty says, “shoo, apologise— _Holster please keep your hands to yourself_ _for heaven’s sake_ —”

He watches them drive away, getting smaller and smaller until they disappear into the mess of suburban houses when they turn the corner. He’s suddenly aware of the ground beneath him, or how the coffee sits inside his stomach. He’s a wreck of nerves, yet he was made for fixing things up. Nursey is made of tangled wires, complicated coding he hasn’t quite learned properly.

He’s the unknown.

And he doesn't like new things.

When he steps into the Haus he notices that Devy is cleaning up with Denice, there’s a hum of an indie song that comes out of the speaker. When Denice looks up, she pauses her broom cleaning and puts her hands on her waist.

“Denice, I’m really sorry.”

She scoffs, “you poor boy, You mother fucker.”

“Oh shit,” Devy scoffs.

“Stay out of this Devy,” her tone is demanding but soft, she sounds a bit like BItty, “go into the kitchen, shoo.”

  
Devy follows without making a sound.

“William Poindexter,” she shakes her head, sitting on the arm of the new couch that they bought earlier this year, “what the hell happened.”

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have left the party, I know that I was supposed to supervise Nursey and just look to see if no one broke anything in the Haus but… I’m sorry.”

There’s a pause, then laughter as she snorts, clasping her hands together, “No, it’s not that. Chowder took care of  _ everything _ , you three boys make quite a team huh?’

“Chowder?” Dex says.

“Yes! He took care of everything, the poor boy is sleeping in his room right now.”

“That was my fault.”

  
She shakes her head, “Dex, you’ve done so much don’t worry. You’re practically like a dad for the Frogs at this point,” she flashes a soft smile on her face. He thinks back to the start of this year, when he was trying to bake pies for the frogs in the middle of the night. He was shaking, panicking. After that night, Nursey said something that still sticks to him:

_ “But I know you enough that you hate new things, so if you need help, me and Chowder are here. Denice is here as well.” _

He has people… helping him. He feels so… loved for the first time in a while. He bites down on his lip, trying to suppress this emotion that his body can’t handle. 

“That’s… good to know,” Dex croaks out.

“On the other hand,” she stands up, her lips in a thin line as she crosses her arm, “what did  _ you  _ do to that poor boy.”

“You’re starting to sound like—”

“—that boy came back crying to the Haus and locked himself in his room. He hasn’t gone out yet.” 

Dex looks up to the stairs where Nursey’s bedroom leads, it’s starting to feel like it’s miles away.

“I didn’t mean to…  _ do  _ that to him,” Dex says, “fuck.”

“Whatever you two argued about, resolve it quickly,  _ please _ . He looked so miserable last night, Chowder tried to talk to him but he just told him to fuck off,” Denice sighs.

“I-I should go right now.”

“Dex, please don’t,” she grips his wrist before he could go anywhere, “not now, give him a chance to breathe.”

“But I’ve  _ hurt  _ him,” he says, feeling himself break apart.

“I know you like to just fix things quickly in one go and I know this is only my 2nd year being the manager but… you can’t fix whatever between you two within a second. You have to let give him some time before you talk to him. He’s fragile and has a good heart,” she lets go of his wrist and just a finger at his heart, “and so do you.”

He never heard someone tell him that. It feels like something he needed to hear.

“Thank you,” he says, even though it feels like he should be saying more to her.

“It’s nothin’, now go help Devy clean up in the kitchen.”

He nods. Heart just a little bit lighter, a little bit easier to carry around. When he reaches the kitchen Devy is picking up beer bottles and trashing it into the bin. The kitchen stinks off sweat, a bit like how his house used to smell like back home. Corona beer bottles, newspapers and the hot, dry air carrying the smell of something musty. He picks up the air fresher and starts to spray it in the air.

“Oh, thanks.”

Something gnaws on him though, the big question, the big word that starts with  _ s  _ and ends with  _ exuality  _ He’s absolutely lost in the beaten path, not knowing where to go, who he was. He was so comfortable with his sexuality before, now the question arises and he feels so… naked and lost. It’s the same feeling he felt when he first stepped foot onto the campus, like a child just getting used to the world.

It’s terrifying.

“Do you know where… Whiskey is?” Devy asks, he turns around and steps into the clean path of the kitchen counter, he twiddles with his fingers, “I’ve been uh… looking for him.”   
  


“He’s at Annie’s, said he needed an hour alone or something.”

“Oh,” Devy says, “t-t-that’s uh, good.”

A beat pauses. Dex feels his heartbeat against his chest, he just has to get the question out there.

“Hey Devy, can I ask you a question?”


	13. beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably the most important chapter out of all the other ones, because this is dex really putting an effort to get pass his own self and internalised biphobia/homophobia that's been spoonfed to him, also some conversations about sexuality and race and stuff.  
> also i noticed ive been writing denice insted of ford...  
> i quickly edited this so im sorry for any mistakes ive missed, heads up i might go on a bit of of a break on this fic so i can focus on other projects that im working on!!
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated <3

_ It was early into his Sophomore year, Dex still hates Nursey with a growing passion. But he’s slowly getting into the random topics that come out of nowhere when they’re either chilling or in the library. These moments, Nursey comes alive in front of him, going on long rants about the topic of race and theories, with Shitty sometimes chiming in. He catches bits and pieces of it when he lowers his headphone volume. But he doesn’t have too much time on his hands to listen, his quiz is due soon. _

_ He’s not gonna admit, his political opinions have changed. Samwell’s liberal environment is loose, making it easy to digest some of the information from Shitty’s mumbling rebuttals against the repulican political ideas and recent laws in the democrats is somewhat helping the poor, while slotting in race equity. He kinda.. Gets it, he thinks. _

_ He’s a centrist now. Whatever. Things change. _

_ It still feels like he’s somehow betraying someone by changing his political ideas. _

_ He can’t shake it off. _

_ Chowder joins him in the library, giving him the usual carefree smile that Dex wishes he always has. He dumps the textbook with a soft thud on the table. He winces. _

_ “Hey man,” Dex hums. _

_ “What are you doing here?” Chowder asks. _

_ “I like the quiet, I guess.” _

_ Silence. _

_“Do you still hate_ _Nursey?” Chowder blurts out._

_ “He’s… annoying, but—,” Dex fixes a line of cold in his program before he continues, “he became tolerable when I knew what the difference was.” _

_ “The difference between what?” _

_ “The different… privileges. I guess. I don’t know. I just… never really thought of it,” Dex looks at Chowder, “I’m not racist or anything—” _

_ “—White fragility,” Chowder cuts in, opening his biology textbook, “the term used when race or anything related to that matter is brought up, white people tend to feel discomfort and defensiveness. Like that.” _

_ Dex feels like an idiot, “I’m sorry.” _

_ “It takes a long time to unlearn that, but I’m glad that you’re learning, consider where you grew up. It's just—sorry do you mind if I offer you my thoughts.” _

_  
_ _ Normally, if it was Nursey he would’ve just shrugged and put up with it. He’s too loud, too much for Dex. But Chowder is somewhat Dex’s friend, he reminds him like a lost puppy that never runs out of energy. It’s adorable.  _

_ Dex feels awkward, so he just nods. _

_ “From what we grew up in America, white is the default, it’s the ‘normal state of things’ I guess. When something diverges from that, it’s seen as unnatural, and race and our culture seeps into every detail of our lives. So when race is brought up, we’re used to that, it’s part of our daily lives. But for you, it’s a shock. Things like: ‘what does race have to do with it’ kinda thing rises. There’s also the alt-right pipeline, have you heard of it? _

_ “No?” _

_ “It’s the rabbit hole that teenage boys fall down, starting from like really cute stuff from Minecraft videos or how to help videos, then going all the way to ‘get rekt SJW videos’ or ‘cringy feminist compliation’ and all the way to racist propanda. It never stops, it keeps going and going. It… it really takes a toll on people, because sometimes minorities fall into this pipeline. It’s hard to get out of, and the effects of it still lingers. Sometimes I think that I’m not racial enough, I even get shit for not knowing Chinese.” _

_ “That’s why you take Chinese classes.” _

_ Chowder shrugs, fiddling with the corners of the textbook, “and I think it also kinda goes into what people think of mainstream racism, so people like  _ **_me_ ** _ don’t fit that. People don’t even see me as a minority sometimes, so I started to believe them, that my experiences are just slaps on the wrist and nothing else. That people had it worse than me, so I should feel lucky. it brought up a lot of problems, and the things I’ve been spoonfed from peers, social media and stuff. And I guess… that kinda feeds into white privilege too? I’m not like Shitty, or Nursey, I don’t know much about race and stuff. But even Shitty and you are privileged enough to learn racism through textbooks and conversations, I had to learn it the hard way.” _

_ There’s a pause, then Chowder slots in: “please don’t feel white guilt otherwise Shitty will go down on you.” _

_ His brain starts to muddle up, going back to himself at Maine. Politics were fed on a silver platter to him by the social media. It had a serving of Foxnews, going on about the ‘crazy left. A bit of his mother’s mumbling about how gay people are too loud. There, on the right, is a big helping of countless and countless videos of alt-right propaganda, leeching itself into his brain. _

_ The effects are long gone now, right? _

_ He’s fine with knowing that he’s not straight. _

_ He’s not straight. _

_ He just has to say it. _

_ But the consequences of the silver platter still clings to him like a ball and the chain. Because everything was linear, black and white, fed to him cleanly and smoothly. Now it sits like an angry parasite, it takes and takes and takes until there is nothing left but a husk of what he once was. _

Now that he’s looking back on it, this is absolutely  _ terrifying _ . He should really talk to Shitty (and he has talked to Shitty about sexaulity before in his Sophmore year, but it lasted for about a minute). There’s something there that sits at the bottom of his stomach, telling him to stay hidden, stitch his lips and never tell his truth.

The ball and chain, the parasite is still there.

But it loosens just a little bit when he opens his mouth to speak. 

“I-I…” he pauses, then takes a deep breath, “how did you know?” 

Devy shifts his position on the kitchen counter, dangling his legs while he types something on his phone, “what do you mean?”

“I just… m-meant like how did you now know that you weren’t… you know?”

“Know what, dude?” Devy looks up from his phone, there’s his usual comforting smile on his face.

“That you weren't  _ straight _ .”

There it is, out in the open. He expects a simple laughter from Devy, or a chuckle, or something along the lines of  _ what are you asking me _ ? Instead, he pockets his phone and wipes the metal cans of the counter, rattling as it hits the wooden floor. 

“I don’t know, it was… a lot of things building up I guess,” Devy moves to make space for Dex to sit next to him, Dex sits on the counter next to me, “it’s complicated. Sure, there’s a moment of clarity but there’s little things, tiny things of moments that lead up to it.”

Devy fiddles with his fingers, there’s a little bit of shakiness in his voice, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Dex says.

“I know… like I know I’m so open about my sexuality but I don’t talk about  _ how  _ I found out I was queer. But I want to, right now,” he pauses for a beat before continuing, “I’m first Gen, so moved to L.A as a teenager, government helped a bit but it was fucking rough trying to get housing. I’m sure you can relate.”

Dex laughs.

“The city was so... liberal so I was surprised by everything, back  _ home  _ everything was tied back to religion and stuff but here… people just existed as themselves. So I explored who I was through little things, like from my crushes and how I crushed on everyone on the gender spectrum _ —I didn’t realise until I graduated from high school— _ and other stuff. Leading all up to that, was a boy in my last year. He was kind, and perfect, and he played basketball _ —fucking basketball players— _ and he was good, really good.”

A silence draws between them.

“And for the first time, I felt what it was for someone to not love you back. Not in the same, stupid shit like a girl would fawn over a guy but he’s already dating a girl, not that sappy shit. It’s something else,” he stares out of the window, like he’s trying to conjure a memory from the ashes of teenagehood, “it was because he didn’t like the same body as me, all of his smiles, and gestures and shit, he saw it as us just being friends. Platonic. Nothing more. It wasn’t the worst part, it was my other friends talking about how hard it is to find someone for prom, I mean all they had to do was ask  _ anyone  _ in the room, while if I ask I could get punched in the face and tell me to fuck off. No matter how liberal the school was, there was still bigotry all around.”

“Did you go to prom?” Dex asks.

“Nah,” Devy chuckles, “I didn’t end up going, instead I ended up crying at the back of the school while wearing a gorgeous suit that my mum bought after we finally got some sort of financial stability. I didn’t go inside, not because he was kissing some girl but because I made myself look all nice, pretty for him. That I thought that if I could not have him, then we could at least just go together to prom as friends. But if I checked my messages earlier, I would've known that he was moving across the country,” he looks at Dex, “so… I guess that’s how I found out? I don’t really like labels so I’ll just go with queer, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” Dex says, because he’s been there in that path. Except he had a perfectly good path in his life, it was right there, between his lips and only happens when at midnight. All he had to do was grasp with his hands, but he shook with fear. He’s gone now, Jonathan. 

He has to accept that, heal from it like Devy does. But it’s like a wound that didn’t quite heal properly, leaving behind a scar that ebbs from time to time.

“It’s fine. It’s what every queer person goes through. I had different experiences from my peers, I didn’t know what to do and I was so  _ confused  _ and  _ scared _ . So I had to find out things on my own, because of that shit, I didn’t have the normal experience of growing up a teenager. I missed out on a lot of stuff, didn’t have my high school romance or prom, I lost a few years of myself. Now here,” Devy smiles, “I can gain it all right back, right now.”

There’s a bit of clarity that comes into his mind, he allows himself to breathe, to just think. Devy trusts him by showing him vulnerability, giving him a supercut of his life. Fear grips him when gets ready to open his mouth, to let the question rise. The parasite in him works harder, the ball and chain grows, casting shadows that torments him.

But he’s not the little kid back at Maine anymore.

“I had some sort of thing like that too,” Dex says, his heart is echoing inside his chest, this is the first time he’s ever told someone this, the last time he talked about this it, it was to his pillow that he silently sobbed to, “but… I was too, uh, scared, I guess. We could’ve been something with  _ him _ . But I was too much of a fucking pussy.”

Silence.

“Dude,” Devy says, “did you just come out to me?” There’s giddiness in his voice, it’s adorable.

“I think so, I don’t know. Am I bi?” Dex says..

“Oh I’m sorry, do you want to start again. Hi, yes. I’m here to listen, do you want to come out to me that I’m bi?”

“I don’t fucking know?!” Dex half-yells, but his voice is light and airy.

“Dude, that’s for you to find out.”

“Shit,” Dex says, rubbing his callouses, “I just need someone to tell me and put a label on my chest that says I’m bi.”

“You don’t have to label yourself right now, like dude, I held a boy’s hand once in sixth grade, nothing happened, there wasn’t any fucking gay sparks going off,” Devy chuckles softly while he pulls out his phone to text someone, Dex is glad for this humour to break through the heavy seriousness. Dex’s phone buzzes, when he pulls it out it’s a message from Devy.

_ Yo captain I still need the thank you for me taking care of my plants (Selena is looking good) _

“You’re an ass,” Dex hums, he pulls out a twenty bill card from his wallet and passes it to him.

“Why did you even call the cactus Selena—”

“Shut up, don’t talk to your captain like that.”

“I don’t talk to  _ republican  _ captains like that .”

“I-I’m not a republican,” Dex grumbles, his ears going pink, “used to be a republican, then I became a centrist in Sophomore then a leftist after Shitty’s thirty minute rant about politics and how  _ horrible  _ the horseshoe theory is .”

“Shitty’s a really cool guy.”

“He is,” Dex says, “hey um… thank you, I guess. For this.”

“It’s fine, really,” Devy says, “I kinda needed a break from all of this<” he gets off the counter, looking around the kitchen, “just a question do you know if I should go to Whiskey _ —” _

“ _ — _ go get your man, please. I’ll clean up.”

Devy hands him the plastic bag and smiles at him before leaving.

It then dreads him that he has to clean up  _ all  _ of this. He heaves a sigh and gets to work.

_ ———— _

Here’s the thing.

He has to talk to Nursey at some point.

But he’s delaying the inevitable as usual, this time with a different excuse: cleaning up and fixing things around the Haus. Chowder comes out of his room later on the day, looking tired with deep eye bags while he wears Farmer’s hoodie. Dex brews him a cup of coffee with creamer (gross) and hands it to him. Chowder looks at him for a minute.

“You better talk to him.”

“I will.”

Chowder nudges him on the shoulder before helping Denice in the living room.

He takes out his toolbox from the depths of the basement and gets to work fixing the cabinets in the kitchen, as well as doing a tidy-up of their oven and stove. At one point Bully and Hops come into the kitchen asking why Nursey hasn’t come out of his room yet, Dex has to bite down on his lip to stop himself from saying that it’s his fault.

  
Which it totally is but, that’s not the point.

  
Farmer and Chowder also come back at one point, asking the same question that Hops and Bully asked.

Chowder spits out his drink.

And Dex flushes a deep red.

But Nursey, but he’s like the thing that buzzes at the back of his mind wherever he goes. He takes up so much space when he finishes cleaning up the Haus from top to bottom, he can’t sit still to do his work in front of the TV. So he bakes the simple recipes that he remembers from Bitty. Every once in a while he looks up stairs, hoping to find his door open. Guilt cuts deep when he finds the door closed, not seeing Nursey there all sleep-ridden and looking soft with his hoodie.

It’s late into the afternoon, and usually at this time Nursey would make his way to the library to read. Most of the time he would post about it on his Instagram story. He hasn’t posted on today, he would know because he’s been checking it every thirty minutes. He ends up baking about ten before he runs out of ingredients.

When he looks out the window, he notices that it’s dark.

His phone tells him it’s past midnight.

He stands in front of the kitchen, alone, with the light above him buzzing every once in a while. Everything is washed in plain light, some of it creeping into the hallway. He sighs and wraps every single one and puts it in the fridge, Bitty would be proud. He doesn’t go to his room straight away, he waits for him, even though it might be pointless, a part of him hopes that he’ll meet him in the kitchen, alone, at night.

It’s the kind of love they describe in the movies.

He sits on the kitchen counter and lets the noise of the night creep into the quiet of the house. He starts to text his brother just to fill the time. Catching up on things, how he and his boyfriend are going. They seem to be fine, revelling in simple and domestic things like waking up together in the morning or just…. Existing. Together. In the same space.

“Oh,” he hears a voice.

  
He looks up.

Nursey. 

He has to stop himself from getting up from the counter and to smother him into a hug, he pockets his phone and grips the edges of the counter. His knuckles go white as he looks at Nursey’s face, bit puffy, eyes red, he’s been crying.

“It looks like you’re busy.” Nursey says, staring at the floor, “I-I should go I don’t want to disturb you.”

“Wait,” he says, almost like a whisper. Not good enough. Nursey is turning around to leave to go upstairs. He can’t let that happen. His body acts on it’s own, getting off the counter and walking towards him.

Dex manages to get a grip of his hand.

They’re at the bottom of the stairs.

He notices this warmth, spark of lightning between them. If Dex was the lightning that became from the heavy grey clouds, Dex would be the stirring seas that get struck. He wants it to come into reality. 

“Dex _ —” _

“—I’m sorry,” he grips his hand a bit tighter, not wanting to let go of him, “for saying that—for saying that I love you,” Dex looks at his face, making out features in the dark, his green eyes that remind him of the dark leaves of his plants, his scruff, the flash of white teeth when he opens his mouth.

“Dex—”

“And I really am, so  _ fucking  _ sorry for saying that I love you. Because it’s true, fucking hell it’s true. I loved you for a while now and I just wanted to say that to you. I-I know that you don’t  _ do  _ relationships but I just wanted to get it out there.”

“Please listen to—”

“I just wanted to get that out, and I’m sorry if this changes anything between us because it felt like suffocating me. Jesus I-I couldn’t stop… thinking about you,” Dex rubs his palm with his thumb, “I wanted it to stop—but I couldn’t.”

“ _ Will _ ,” Nursey says. His real name. He only pulls out his real name when something is happening, “what the fuck is wrong with you. How could you… what—”

“I’m sorry—”

“—no,” he chuckles softly, “not that. Dex what the fuck, I-I was miserable and went back into my teenage angst itself, and cried all day. You didn’t even knock on my door or text me.”

“I thought you needed space.”

“I thought you hated me,” Nursey breathes out, “I thought… you hated me.”

“How could I hate you?” Dex says between the space of them, he can hear their breathing, such a normal thing but right now, it feels intimate, hearing him breathe, like their breaths are letters containing secrets. He inches just a little bit closer to him. Ten inches feeling like the stretch of the entire oceans themselves.

“Because I like you,” Nursey says.

“You said that you don’t do relationships—”

“—I think, you’ve shown me… how to love someone,” Nursey says, those words rolling out his tongue effortly, “I think, I could have you. Like this.”

He presses their lips together, it’s like a breeze of air over the seas that’s learning to stay still, not to rage like the magma that bubbled underneath the sea floor. Dex notices how soft his lips are, and it takes a moment to register that he’s kissing him. Nursey, the man that he absolutely  _ despised  _ back at freshman year, is now kissing him .

He’s a good kisser too.

Dex doesn't know how to kiss properly, yet alone his D-partner. So he leans it just a little bit deeper, testing out the waters, wanting to grasp more of him. Dex is hungry, a little giddy on this fruit that he just got a taste of. He goes in a bit deeper, kissing him, wanting to taste more as his mind is just nothing but  _ him _ .

Derek Nurse is a fucking daydream.

But he’s absolutely terrified that he’ll turn him into a nightmare.

He pulls away a bit more too quickly, his lips a bit swollen and cheeks flush. He feels hot, like a furnace, crackling and popping the coals. Adrenaline mixes in him, excited for what’s to come. But also fear, of that he’ll break Nursey with his calloused hands, with his harsh words. He’s terrified, that they’ll become just like his mum and dad.

“Hey,” Nursey says, so soft and so tender, it doesn't’ feel real, “you okay?’

“I feel like I’m going to ruin you,” Dex says, “that we’ll turn into my parents. I don’t want that I—”

“Hey, poindexter,” he feels a soft kiss planted on his knuckles, this man is so full of softness, so tender, giving it to him, full of ragged edges and sharp teeth, “you think too much.”

“I’m going to end up hurting you.”

“You really think so?”

Dex nods.

He feels a hand wrap around his waist, Nursey guides him up the stairs, “why do you think that?”

Dex doesn’t know what to say, he stays silent.

“Come on man, let's get to bed. We can talk about this later.”

“Okay,” Dex says.

“Okay,” Nursey repeats with a smile on his face.

Nursey chuckles, filling up the space as they walk back to Nursey’s room. He opens it. Dex’s eyes glances over to the bunk beds. He doesn’t ask Nursey why he still has it. Dex lets himself be guided by him, hands on his as Nursey ushers him to the bottom bunk. He takes in the noise, the lack of it. Everything is still. Calm. Not like the calm before the storm, but actual calm.

Peace.

He can breathe for once in his life. 

He feels so content as Nursey guides him to chest, ear to chest. Dex’s hands manages to find Nursey’s, tracing his lines, his veins, wanting to see where it leads. 

“Did it hurt?” Dex asks.

“Are you making a joke?”

“N-no, the tattoo,” Dex points to his upper arm, “did it hurt that much?’

“Yeah, hurts like a bitch.”

“I think I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dex says.

A part of him wants to kiss him, but that ball and chain still pulls him back, away from love and all things beautiful that he could have. His heart aches. His eyes turns glassy, a bit sad. Nursey picks up on this, that little shift of change, like a shift of words in a book.

“You okay?”   
  
“I wanna kiss you,” Dex says, blinking away the tears, his eyes training on his hand, not wanting to face him like this, not yet, “but I’m scared. I’m still… figuring things out.”   
  


“That’s fine,” Nursey hums, planting a soft kiss on his forehead, “is this okay?”

Dex nods.

“We can talk about stuff tomorrow. And I’ll wait for you to be comfortable about myself, you know that right? I’ll guide you and do all that stupid shit that comes along with it.”

“Why are you like this?” Dex says.

“Like what?” Nursey asks while his fingers run through his ginger hair.

“Soft, full of love. That sort of thing. How do you do it.”

“I’m still trying to learn about that, how to be soft. How to love. I think I got the sappiness from my dad but I’m trying  _ really  _ hard.”

“You shouldn’t have to try so hard for me.”

“I know, but I want to.”

Dex stays quiet, still tracing the lines on his palm. There’s a soft smile on his face as he drifts off to sleep, feeling a hand wrap around him. He thinks, he’s going to alright, the both of them are. He allows him to think that they might turn into something, not like his parents but actual love that he’s seen on the screens and in movies.

He drifts off to sleep.

———

**_Nursey_ **

_ Hey  _

_ I know that you needed to leave early for you run and classes but can we talk after? _

**_Dex_ **

_ My day is full, working after i get off my classes. _

_ I’m so sorry _

**_Nursey_ **

_ It’s chill, dw. _

**_Dex_ **

_ We should talk right now, or text _

_ Or call. _

_ Or should we wait. _

_ Sorry _

**_Nursey_ **

_ Hey, stop staying sorry _

**_Dex_ **

_ Sorry _

_ Fuck _

_ What do you want to talk about _

**_Nursey_ **

_ About us, yknow? _

_ Boundaries _

_ Things like that _

**_Dex_ **

_ I don’t think I wanna come out _

_ Not yet _

_ Im just not ready i think _

_ And no public affections and stuff,  _

**_Nursey_ **

_ Is the rare chirp that can come across romantic if you spent about ten seconds analysing it fine, and like a bit of flirting if no one can notice it. _

**_Dex_ **

_ Yes… _

_ Fine _

_ You shouldn’t have to do this with me. I know you wanna kiss me in public and do really gross things and call ourselves the dads of the team _

**_Nursey_ **

_ I dont mind, really.  _

_ We’ll… take it from your pace, this is kinda new to me too. Because normally i only do hookups, _

**_Dex_ **

_ No partner or relationship before this _

**_Nursey_ **

_ Nope, only hookups. _

_ Until I fell in love with you _

**_Dex_ **

_ Fucking gross _

**_Nursey_ **

_ We’re gonna be fine, I think. _

_ Dex? _

_ Oh you left to your class. _

_ Fine dumbass leave me on read :( _

_ :P _

**_Dex_ **

_ Fuck off _

_ Wait one more thing _

_ We are dating right? _

_ Nurse? _

_ Derek _

_ No wait im sorry that was really dumb of me to ask  _

_ Im gonna go now _

The next few days are rolling in and Dex starts to settle into a somewhat normal state, considering that he was just shedding his skin and revealing his secrets in front of Nursey not even a week ago. He remembered how midnight softened his words, and how he kissed him.

  
He kissed him.

And he wants to kiss him right now, as they sit in the living room, watching the Falconers. Chowder is in the middle of the couch while Nursey and Dex sit at the sides. There’s a grin that breaks Nursey’s usual  _ chill _ when Jack gets past the defence, meanwhile Chowder is already standing up.

Dex watches him, his usual face shifting into more and more emotions, the dread that Jack won’t score is present on his face. He furrows his eyebrows just slightly, fingers digging into his palm, gritting his teeth. He’s unfolding right in front of him, turning into colours he never expected to see from Nursey. 

He wants to kiss him.

But that weight, pulling him back, it’s still there.

Suddenly Chowder jumps, full of glee as he almost knocks over the bowl of popcorn on the couch. Dex moves it out of the way.

“I knew he was gonna score!” Chowder yells, “thank god, they really needed that.”

“Yeah dude, they don’t have to face Vegas Golden,” Nursey hums, there’s a bit of joy in his tone though, “fucking relieved.”

He catches a glimpse of Dex staring at him.

Nursey gives him a smile, void of all things that’s associated with  _ chill _ and doped up with love and all that gross stuff.

Dex bites on his lower lip and flips him the finger, hiding the fact that his insides are heating up and his heart is beating a thousand miles an hour. Everything is too fast, trying to keep up with the fact that someone  _ loves  _ him, someone will wake up earlier to step into the waking kitchen just to say goodbye to Dex before going to his class.

And their name is Nursey.

He likes him.

He actually likes him.

It still feels like a trick, an illusion that the universe is putting in front of his eyes. His mind is evil, and he thinks that one day it’ll all dissolve into thin air when he wakes up in the morning.. That, he won’t see Nursey in the kitchen, that he’ll be in his room. They’ll somehow fall back into their freshmen years and everything will be over.

Now it’s the late afternoon on a Thursday, Nursey inviting him to go to the library. They sit at the chairs, sharing a comfortable silence. Dex is the one that’s actually studying, while Nursey is just there to offer company, sipping on his starbucks while reading articles and books while watching historical films. Dex catches some of them every now and then, and when he does, his chest blooms with curiosity and pride..

He somehow abandons his Computer Programming homework and instead leans in close to Nursey, pushing his chair close to him. On the screen he’s uncovering hidden history, buried with the usual phrase he would hear: ‘ _ this isn’t important history, who would care about this stuff’ _ . Back then he wouldn’t. Now, however, watching Nursey quietly ramble about queer history it feels like some part of him is being becoming full, whole.

On Nursey’s laptop, he’s reading about the history of  _ Black Gay Pride  _ in D.C. Sometimes switching up to write a bit about how mainstream queer media is erasing  _ Oscar Wilde’s  _ possible bisexuality, all while mumbling about how the LGBT movement is being strambled and whitewashed, ignoring the rich history that exists. 

  
Dex starts to read on this, letting this  _ feeling  _ that swells inside him carry him. The Stonewall Inn, Marsha P Johnson.  _ The White Night Riots  _ that paved the way for San Francisco's LGBT community for years and years to come. He has  _ Paris Is Burning  _ bookmarked to watch later. This swelling overtakes the ball and chains, whispers that stems from childhood and teen years. It overtakes, and he can breathe.

It’s not the loud pride that someone yells at the top of their lungs, it’s the quiet type. It’s the type that’s still growing, on it’s shaky legs, shifting like the changing seas. He feels content, knowing that he  _ knows  _ that he  _ will  _ somewhat grow comfortable, not yet, possibly not in a month. But in the future, this pride that grew from the seed will turn into a bustling and beautiful thing.

He takes his first step, his hands shaky as he sticks a black and white photo from the 90’s above his desk saying:  _ Bi the way _ — _ we’re here, we’re queer and we won’t go away! Bisexual Pride! _

When Nursey knocks on his door and comes in, his eyes glaze up at that photo that joins the sea of timetables, kegster photos and Bitty’s graduation above his desk. A part of him wants to take it off immediately, shame coming over him, built up from years and years from his hometown.

But he stays foot.

“Hey,” Nursey says, he closes the door with his foot, “I came to see you.”

“Did you break the shower head again?” Dex says with a smile, rubbing his fingers against his palm, trying to divert the attention from him.

“Poindexter, no. You really don’t trust me that much huh?” He says.

Dex chuckles.

Nursey takes a step forward, “I just wanted to come by to say that practise before our game is starting soon, in half an hour.”

“You could’ve texted me.”

“I know… but I wanted to see you man, in person,” Nursey lifts his eyes to look at Dex, he takes another step closer to him, testing out the waters, “if that’s okay?”

“Yeah that’s fine.”

Nursey takes another step, a second later he’s reaching out for Dex’s hands. He lets him take it. When Dex looks up he sees Nursey’s face is a few inches away from him, he can feel his shaky breaths on his face, the smell of coffee and cinnamon sticking to him. He likes that smell now.

“Is this okay?” Nursey asks.

“Yeah.”

He kisses him.

———

They get to practise almost late, with no hickeys on their necks (because Dex isn’t that dumb) though their lips are a bit flush and their hair is a bit ruffled. No one says anything. Their coaches just sigh and tell them to put on their hockey gear.

They skate over near the wall next to the nearest goals, Denice has her Samwell outfit that she made herself. Dex puts on his leadership skills and offers a few changes to the positions on the ice, then when he finishes, he says:

“We took a few tumbles last semester, luckily our last game saved us from a pickle and put us higher on the ladder. We’re on good on the standings, but I wanna give these motherfuckers a game,” Dex looks at Nursey, “I wanna go out with a bag, let’s make Jack Zimmerman proud.”

“But he’s not here anymore,” Tango hums.

“Don’t think about it too much,” Chowder cuts in.

“Okay, now go.”

Everyone starts to set up the drills and they know what they’re trying to do, which requires Nursey and Dex to be in sync to play a bit further up for defense. It’ll leave their flanks and more vulnerable to checks, but it could be a wildcard for their game. His mind is buzzing that he doesn’t even notice Whiskey skating to him.

“Hey Dex,” Whiskey asks.

Dex puts down a traffic cone, he hears Nursey talking to Chowder behind him, “yeah, what’s up.”

“I…. I just wanted to say thank you,”

“I didn’t really do anything.”

“No it was  _ our  _ talk, getting it out into the open, it kinda helped, “ Whiskey fixes his helmet.

“Oh,” Dex blurts out, “your welcome?”

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Devy yelling at Whiskey, telling him to hurry up. Whiskey doesn’t grumble like he usually does, there’s no malice or anger.

Instead, there’s a smile. A genuine one.

“Huh,” Dex says, he watches Whiskey skate over to Devy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the photo that dex puts above his desk is actually a real photo  
> [here it is](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/aa/8c/ae/aa8caecbdc7c52e00d45127d17d4d261.jpg)  
> im so excited after that slowburn that i can finally get onto really cute stuff, like banter between nurseydex, more character study for whiskey and dex guiding him, angst and fluff omg so much FLUFF and poetry and cute stuff ughh omg i tried to make this fic as realistic as possible (with a bit of leeway here and there) and trying to keep the dynamic between them.


	14. soft things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im back from the hiatus of this fic! I just needed a break and i'm currently wokring on other projects and stuff rn. Also, I do apologize if i made if seem like nursey has absent parents, i looked back through some of the bits in this fic and realised how that's racist, I fixed it up and introduce them in this chapter! Nursey is such a mama's boy and they love him so much it's so sweet.
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated <3

Nursey’s sitting on the loading dock. He’s pretty sure this is where Jack used to sit before his games.

He’s nervous, he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t have his usual chill, something is brimming inside him and he can’t get out. He needs something to ground him, to anchor him to the ground so he doesn’t implode.

He feels his phone vibrate.

With his shaky hands he finds himself smiling when he sees it’s text from his dad. 

**_Dad_ **

_ I’m so sorry we haven’t done our bi-weekly call _

_ Get it _

_ Bi _

**_Nursey_ **

_ Dad... _

_ It’s chill _

_ We can do it later? I have a game to play though _

**_Dad_ **

_ Good luck honey _

_ We’ll talk to you soon _

He finds himself smiling at his phone, his thumb scrolling through his older texts. He doesn’t really talk about his family, or his parents, it’s something personal, only with Chowder or Dex or when just a random topic that he brings up. The thing is, he’s a Mama’s boy, ever since he was little he was always around them. Bugging them. He was always around them. He got attention because he was an only child.

But slowly the years came and they couldn’t talk every minute of his life, the more he grew taller the more they slowly let him go. He always found himself running back to them. Nursey had to learn the hard way to grow independent. He’s still learning, to ground himself, that his parents have a life outside of him.

He still craves mornings jumping on their bed or the three of them dancing in the kitchen. That’s long gone, what’s left is simple bi-weekly calls and everyday text, it’s not enough, but he wants to come back home to their embrace. They’ve been busy, he knows that. They apologised when they couldn’t visit him on his break back at their brownstone.

He feels so  _ small _ .

The door swings open and he looks to his left, it’s Dex, his hair messy and ruffled. He’s wearing his hockey gear, the hockey helmet hanging from his hand. Dex hesitates to walk towards him, biting his lip, trying to find the words.

“You okay?” Dex says, soft and simple. Nursey thinks it fits him, he smiles at him.

“Yeah just needed air,” he swallows against his dry throat, “can you… sit with me for a second?”

“Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?” 

“No, I'm just nervous, I guess,” Nursey looks at his feet, patting the seat next to him, “come, sit with me.”

Dex walks towards him, putting the helmet on the seat first before sitting next to him. The both of them stare into the horizon, the sun already starting to come down. There’s a certain peace before a game, when the suburbs begin to quiet down and there’s just nothing but his breaths that comes and goes and the birds flying above.

They can do this.

Nursey leans on his shoulder and sighs, he can change back into his hockey gear later.

===

Dex feels his hands shake as he skates around his opponent, his eyes darting back and forth. There’s only a minute left, his heart is at his throat. Weight begins to stack up against his lungs and everything grows hot under his hockey gear.

Everything is a blur of light. 

He grits his teeth and looks to the other side, finding that Nursey’s there, looking at him. He just has to pass the puck to him, he just _ — _

_ — _ He feels something come into contact with him, his wind knocked out of his lungs. It’s harsh and blunt, the crash of two bodies coming into one. It takes a moment to realise that he’s being checked.

He goes airborne.

And everything goes dark.

===

They won. But they almost lost because of Dex.

He didn’t pay enough attention to the medics _ — _ his mind was already off somewhere _ — _ but apparently he’s lucky that he didn’t gain any new injuries, no concussions. Just told to walk it off and take it easy for the next few weeks, reduce the intensity in training and all that stuff.

  
When he goes into the changing room, he finds it empty. Everyone already left.

He takes a long, hot shower. Letting the water almost burn his skin off, scrub it raw until there’s no more sweat that clings into his skin. He leans against the wall. 

He turns it off and dries himself.

He changes back into his clothes, finds his phone with a hundred messages asking if he’s okay. He’s fine. Dex shoves it into the pockets of his hockey bag. 

He ends up punching the wall on his way out, his knuckles red and angry. 

Now he stands outside the hockey building, it’s dark out, the cool night breeze rustling the leaves at his feet. Street lamps flicker in the dark. His mind starts to torture him, replaying the events of what happened over and over again. The blur of lights. The weight on his lungs and the sudden impact against his side.

He goes to the gym to clear his mind. He pushes himself to the full and lets his body carry the weight. His limbs start to ache but it’s a small price to pay because they almost messed up their season, that was game was all or nothing, lose that and they would’ve been out. He feels himself brim with fire.

Dex pushes and pushes until he finally breaks, he stops the treadmill and heaves a heavy breath. Sweat clings to his hair and skin, his legs shakes, pain ebbs throughout his body. He sits at the floor, burying his face into his clammy hands. He shouldn’t have been checked like that. It’s what lost his games back in high school. Everytime he came close, he fumbled and they were knocked out.

It still haunts him to this day, it’s stupid, he knows. 

He showers again. Feeling his skin grow red, like a sunburn back at his uncle’s boat. 

When he heads back to the Haus with weary legs, he finds it dark and quiet. Everyone’s too tired to even stay up, everyone collapsed to their own beds. Good. He heads down the hallway, but a flash of light from the TV catches his eyes.

He peeks his head into the living room, it’s Nursey, sitting on his phone in sweats while he bites down on his nails.

“Nursey, hey.”

  
It takes a second for Nursey to look at him, but when he does his nervous face lights up. He jumps up from the couch and hugs him tight, almost sending the two of them to the ground. Dex isn’t used to this… contact, but he welcomes it.

“I’m sorry,” Nursey says when they pull apart, “shit I wanted to wait for you but then like Chowder pulled me away from you to help me calm down, but I was fine,” he breathes out, “fuck a-are you okay Dex? Denice said you were fine but I was worried about you.”

“You were worried about me?” Dex asks with a smile. He puts his bag down on the floor.

“Fuck off Poindexter,” he chirps. There's Nursey back, full of chirps and full of  _ chill _ . The smile on his face lingers, Dex thinks it fits him, “yes I was worried about you,” he sits back on the couch, phone in his hand, “I-I really thought you were like… _ hurt _ .”

_ Hurt _ .

Meaning broken broken bones or perhaps a hole in his lungs. Nursey cares for him, and it’s such a foreign thing for him, a quiet soft thing that blooms of so much  _ kindnes _ s. Dex thinks he would implode of this, he’s full of barbed wires and scowls, with an anger that’s either something that quietly brims or explodes right in your face..

Something like this so  _ new _ . It feels like he doesn’t deserve it. He’s not made for this. He's tall. Big. Samwell’s senior defenseman. He doesn’t  _ need  _ soft.

“Why are you being like this?” Dex asks, he stares at the back of his hand, it’s awfully red from his hot showers. The blue light from the TV casts long shadows on the walls, it mixes in with Dex’s red skin.   
  


“What do you mean?” Nursey says.

Dex hesitates before sitting next to him, feeling the couch dip under his weight, “so… soft and gentle. I don’t deserve it. I almost lost us the game _ — _ ”

“ _ Will _ ,” Nursey, he says it so softly. Dex practically melts into it, “stop it.”

“Stop what?” Dex looks at his face, his brown skin seeped with a blue hue, carving out the features of his flawless face, it’s too much too look at, like staring into the sun, he stares at his feet, “I’m the fucking captain of this team and I couldn’t even watch myself for a simple fucking  _ check _ . If we lost that game we would’ve been out.”

“But we didn’t,” Nursey says, he reaches out to gently touch Dex’s hand, almost just an accidental brush of skin, “hey, aren’t you excited that we’re entering the frozen four?”

He lets the sound of the news fill the silence. He hasn’t been thinking about that, about a celebration that they’re a chance that they’re going to win again. He can already picture tomorrow with Chowder full of energy, smiling while he talks to Devy.

But all he’s been thinking about is the fact that he’s gotten checked.

“I haven’t been thinking about that. I’ve been thinking about other things,” Dex breathes out, he lets his nails dig into his palm, “about the future, and the game. Not about the fact that we won the game, there’s still so much things we have to do.”

“We can still just take a short break, you know that,” Nursey says, he initiates another contact by leaning against his shoulder, “you’re like a ball of stress with so much checklist with a tight schedule, you need to let go sometimes.”

“I do.”

“Only when you’re drunk, Dex,” Nursey says, softly kissing his shoulder. He notices that everything that’s associated with Nursey had to do with soft things.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising.”

“Fuck off.”

There’s a buzz of laughter between them and it’s so  _ easy  _ to fall into. It’s like second nature, like breathing or walking. It’s  _ nice _ . 

“Why are you so soft with me?” Dex says after a minute, “I’m not like fucking glass, you know?”

“But I want to,” Nursey says, “to be soft, with you. You can do that to me too, you know? When you’re ready to,” he takes Dex’s hand into his, locking their fingers together like the statues he sees, eternally clasping their hands forever, “like this.”

Nursey squeezes their hands together.

And Dex feels his chest flow with warmth, for the first time in a while he considers to let his walls break and let the barbed wires fall.

He does.

He gives Nursey a kiss on the temple, it’s not much, but it’s a small step in the right direction. He takes another, letting his head dig into the crook of Nursey’s shoulder. He lets himself give away to this new feeling. It blossoms.

“Hey Dex?”

“Hm?”

“Can you sit with me while I call my parents?” Nursey says, he turns his phone over.

“Is this your first time calling them in a while?” Dex asks.

“No, no it’s not. I uh kinda made them out to be someone who abandoned me but they’re just busy and stuff. I was clingy _ —still am— _ but I used to go and stick with them every day, but as I got older I kinda realised that they have a life outside of me, like work and stuff,” Nursey sighs, “it’s not their fault I guess I just wasn’t ready, I guess.”

“You must love them a lot,” Dex asks.

“I do.”

“So tell me about them.”

They untangle themselves before turning off the TV then making their way up to the stairs—with hands linked together—and go inside Nursey’s room. It’s unbelievably clean, with the exception of clothes thrown in the corner of the room. They don’t opt to sit in Nursey’s bed, they sit on the floor, leaning against the bed.

They don’t bother to stand up to flick on the lights, the silver moonlight sparks up the whole room and Nursey’s skin is steeped in it, his eyes covered with a hue of the moon, the colour of the very forests itself.  _ He’s beautiful _ , he thinks. But he won’t let it escape his lips, it feels too early and too delicate of a thing to say.

Nursey starts, and he makes out his dad as something that’s unbelievably full of love.  _ So much love _ . He’s unbelievably selfless, the type of man to venture the seas when someone’s in need. He’s encomapasses everything that Dex’sfamily engrained him  _ not  _ to be, loud and soft, affectionate and heartless. He’s apparently a good cook too.

And his mum? The polar opposite, full of barbed wires and a cold gaze, but if you’re lucky enough to be trusted by her she’ll shower you with so much love it’ll feel like you’re suffocating. She runs everyday to keep up a routine, drinks those weird vegan smoothies that Dex sees on instagram. She’s a poet too.

Their household would either be dead silent or loud, with the radio cranked up while his parents danced in the kitchen. The smell of different spices would coat the air, his dad would experiment with making fusion dishes. They would constantly switch languages, and Nursey would effortlessly follow through to what they’re saying. 

He spins tales of waking up at Christmas and skating in the freezing air in the skating rink, catching snow on his tongue and tumbling all the time (“That’s how I learned how to skate,” Nursey says). He also talks about how unapologetically  _ queer  _ his parents are, talking about their identity, how fluid it could be. Even the occasional embarrassing hookup stories (“I was over eighteen when they told me about that don’t worry). His parents are grossly in love, still in their honeymoon phase. 

They ingrained into him at a young age to be proud of who he is,  _ each part of him _ . They taught him to be unapologetic. 

Now here he is, smiling at Dex.

===

Dex his head on his lap, Nursey’s hands running through his hair. It’s nice, this touch.

“We should come and visit one of your games,” his mum says, “to make up for how horrible we were that we didn’t meet you in your break.”

  
“I know, you already went about it a million of times,” Nursey hums, “you don’t have to, really.”

Nursey  _ definitely  _ want them to come, Dex can see it in his face. But he doesn’t say anything about it,

“Are you sure?” His dad chirps in, it’s on speaker, he can hear the sound of stirring pots and the faint sound of music, “it wouldn’t really be big of a deal.”

“We’ll try to go to your final game then,” his mum cuts in, “honey! Can you mark it off our calendar? We’ll clear off our ,eets.”

He feels Nursey still, they’re workaholics, and in the middle of important meetings in shifting their company to be more ethical and worker friendly. 

Nursey opens his mouth to speak, but before he can even get a word out his mother beats it to him, “ _ Derek Malik Nurse _ , don’t even  _ think  _ about saying something. We’re coming to your final game whether you like it or not.”

Dex stifles a laugh, Nursey punches him. 

“Yes ma,” Nursey says softly. It’s taking  _ everything  _ for Dex to not smile at him, Nursey isn’t obedient like this,  _ ever _ . Now here he is, revealing a soft side to Dex. His mum.

“But I have to go soon but I want to talk to you guys about something,” Nursey pauses. He looks at Dex in the eyes, his face shifting to something that’s more serious. It takes Dex a few seconds to get what he’s saying, and his whole face flushes red that he has to hide his face.

They never really talked about the whole  _ meeting-with-the-parents-thing _ even though that this whole thing is new to the both of them. Fear grips his lungs, but then when Nursey rubs his scaple in the sweetest way soothes him. He’ll be coming out to strangers that he only knows bits and pieces off.

The shackles and ball of chains leaves him and he nods.

“I’ve met someone,” Nursey says.

There’s silence in the other line, then, “well dear, who is it? I thought you told us that you’re not the type to really go for relationships.”

“I know,” Nursey scratches the back of his neck, “but he’s  _ different _ .”

“Well aren’t you charmer?” His dad says from the background. He hears something being thrown.

“Don’t pressure your poor boy,” she says, “you don’t have to tell every detail.”

“No I... I want to,” Nursey says, he meets Dex’ eyes. He’s  _ nervous _ , even though it should be the other way around, “his name is Dex, he’s my D-partner.”

“Oh you told me about him before, a couple of times in fact,” she says, “well what’s the sudden change of heart? I thought you hated him.”

Dex bites his knuckles to stop himself from descending into a ball of laughter, while Nursey shoots him a glance, “I didn’t  _ hate  _ him.”

  
“You were going on and on about that white boy,” she sighs, her tone soft, “it reminds me of you and your father. I hated that old carp.”

“Love you too hon!” He yells from the background.

His mother continues, “well, the heart wants what it wants. I've seen his face before, he’s handsome. You have good taste.”

“ _ Mum _ ,” Nursey says. Dex is so  _ close  _ to losing his shit.

“A ginger too,” she chuckles, “with freckles. I never really know much about him except that he’s an ‘asshat’ and needs a ‘chill pill’, what is he like dear?”

“Well he’s really kind, and he’s like a wreck of nerves sometimes considering that he’s the captain.”

“Oh yes,” she says, “I saw one of your games on TV a few hours ago, he took quite a check, is he all right?”

Dex nods.

“He’s fine. I was really worried, I thought he broke a bone or something. Chowder had to pull me away from him for a while, but it’s all good.”

“That’s good,” she says, “you must really like him.”

“I do,” Nursey says, smiling, “and he’s over the heels with me honestly, even drove all the way from Maine to come to the brownstone because I needed— _ ow _ !” Nursey shoots a glance at Dex that says  _ stop pinching me _ .

Dex puts his hands up in defeat.

“Is everything fine?”   
  


“Yeah, it’s just a  _ pest _ ,” Nursey bites his lip,, “mosquito bite.”

“Well,” his dad booms in the background, “I can’t wait to meet this man. How long have you been dating?”

“We started dating when I got back to Samwell, but I liked him longer than that.”

“That’s adorable,” his dad says, “he better not break your heart—”

“Dad.”

“—and young man,” his mum interrupts, “better not break his. You treat him right, you understand?”

“Yes ma,” Nursey says, he looks at Dex, “but I-I have to go, we can talk more about you coming over later. It’s getting late.”

“You say hi to your boyfriend for me, alright?” His mum says, “stay safe, Derek.”

“You too.”

Nursey hangs up.

“You’re so sweet with your parents,” Dex says, “that’s so adorable.”

“Ugh,” Nursey groans, “go away.”

Dex chuckles, “it’s getting late, I should probably go to my room to sleep.”

When Dex stands up, he feels Nursey pulling back, “you don’t have to go back to you own room, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

Nursey sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose before saying, “you’re an idiot, I mean you can sleep with me, on the bed.”

And all Dex can think about is  _ oh _ . Sleeping, not the sexual kind. But the soft, intimate kind. The type that involves skin against skin and melting into each other’s bodies, sleeping on each other and probably arguing who’s going to be the bigger spoon or not. Then they’ll descend into laughter then he’ll wake up into a tangle of limbs and lazy kisses with morning breath.

“If you don’t want to then it’s chill.”

“No. I uh, want to, sleep with you,” Dex coughs.

“Right.”

“Don’t make this fucking awkward Nurse,” Dex says, Nursey chuckles.

It takes a while until they actually settle on the bed, with Dex preferring to sleep with a shirt off and Nursey whistling at him which turns into a wrestle-slash-making out-fight. Now they lay on the bed, with Dex tucking himself into Nursey’s side, head into his neck, hand thrown across his chest.

They don’t close their eyes, they don’t pretend that they’re asleep. Instead they just stare at the bottom of the top bunk.

“Which bunk do you sleep on?” Dex asks, “I’m just wondering.”

“Oh, when you moved out,” Nursey rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm, “probably this one.”

“Why?”

“Because you slept on this one, and.I missed you, here, in this room. It was my fault that I was being asshole to you,” Nursey pauses, choosing his words before continuing, “you helped, you know.”

“With what?”

“With my poetry, when you’re around all the words just click with me. I can’t describe it.”

“Do you write poetry about me?” 

“No,” Nursey says, then after a beat, “yes.”

“Fucking knew it,” Dex says, his hands roams to find Nursey’s hands, locking their fingers together, “can you make one.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, right now.”

He pauses, then lets his thumb run across the back of Dex’s rough hands.

“It’s probably bad.”

“I don’t mind, as long as  _ you  _ make it.”

Nursey clears his throat, before their joined hands together for him to kiss, “I’ve seen the hidden depths of you, and I wonder how proud the stars are right know to realise that their atoms make up every  _ inch  _ of you.”

Dex swallows. Nursey rests their hands back on top of his rising and falling chest.

“Bones and flesh. Hearts and ribs. I’ve seen your painted skin, I’ve memorized every mile and I’ve kissed it so many times. But deep within the depths of you lies something there, let me love it, hold it in my hands, turn it something else,” Nursey pauses, his other hand running through Dex’s hair.

Then he says; “give yourself away sometimes sweetheart, you hold so much in you.”

Dex doesn’t know what to say. He just said  _ I love you _ through a different medium, pushed his love into the crevices of his words.

“Thank you,” is all that Dex says. It doesn't feel enough though.

===

His own body wakes him up at 8 in the morning,, no matter if he’s tired or drunk. He rises, sitting up and groaning, taking in his surroundings and realising that this isn’t a dream, that he’s in Nursey’s room. He looks at Nursey, peacefully sleeping next to him, his hands still clinging to him.

The Haus is still awfully quiet and it  _ takes  _ everything in him to not stay in his bed and to just drift back to sleep with Nursey. He has to keep his routine to get  _ some  _ order in his life. He pries Nursey off him and heads back to his own room to change. He goes on a run then makes a quick breakfast before making a quick dash to his job at a repair shop.

He sends Nursey a quick text before delving deep into easy, monotonous work that he can mindlessly do. He fixes the wiring of the engine of a car, then changes the battery of another. He cleans out the pipes from another. Outside the day goes on and time for him goes to a blur.

When he finishes it’s five in the afternoon.

He feels his phone buzz when he steps outside. He fishes it out of the coat that Nursey loaned him a while ago but never remembered to give back. Dex looks at the screen.

It’s Jax.

He quickly accepts.

“Hey, why are you calling?”

“I just wanted to see what’s up,” Jax says from the other line, in the background he hears the sound of cutlery and sizzling, “sorry about the noise, had to pick up a job in LA. Everything here is so fucking expensive.”

“Well I won a game which puts me one more step towards finals.”

“That’s sweet! I have to come to one of your games.”

“You don’t have to,” Dex goes bashful, he starts to go walk back to the Haus, “really.”

“But I want to,” Jax says, “I’ll bring Jayce with me if it’s okay.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “that’s so weird, getting to call him my boyfriend. I mean like one time he was trying to cook dinner and he absolutely messed it up and I-I like fucking looked at him and thought:  _ wow, I love this man so much _ .”

The restraints inside Dex start to grow loose. Maybe, he can tell Jax about Nursey. He opens his mouth to speak.

But the words don’t come out.

It’s strange.

“But I called for something else,” Jax says, “I was asking how much you remember about dad.”

_ Dad _ . That worse feels so foreign and strange, like it shouldn’t fit into Dex’s vocabulary. But it  _ used  _ to fit in there.   
  


“Not much,” Dex hums, “he worked a 9-5 job everyday, got tipsy on the recliner on the couch and argued with mum. Why are you asking.”

“I just—okay call me crazy but I want to find him again.”

“Jax, please. He left us to go to fucking Australia, he’s probably doing more than fine.”

“I barely consider anyone family, except for Uncle. I have no one Dex,” he says, “can you understand where I’m at? We barely have anyone in our family.”

The grip on his phone tightens. He wants to smash his phone into a thousand pieces, let it shatter and break apart. Their dad left them to rot in their house, why would he care about trying to get him back? He’s long gone. He’s better off  _ dead _ .

He doesn’t say that.

“Dex just… consider it. I gotta go, I’ll text you later.” Jax hangs up.

And there’s a hollow feeling inside his chest that grows deep. It’s the type of pain that he gets when he misses someone, the lingering, yearning feeling for those good memories again. He learned how to first skate by the nearby frozen lake by his dad. He was there when on his first day to school.

Now he’s gone.

He has to accept that. 

But it’s not fair when his dad wasn’t there to see him grow into a teenager, or when he won his first gold medal in his track team or when first stepped foot into the ice for his very first hockey game. He wasn’t there when money ran low and things got desperate, when mum grew tired and drunk on the weekends. He wasn’t there at his graduation, or when he signed up for a scholarship for Samwell.

It’s overwhelming.

It’s eating inside his brain like a rot.

So he does what he knows best and plugs in his earbuds and starts running.


	15. running

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update! and sorrry that it doesn't look edited, i quickly read through it and im very busy with school and such! hope yall like this chapter, but i do feel like things are starting to get a bit repetitive. 
> 
> Kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated!

Here’s the thing.

Dex is terrified of his future, stressed. He expects his future to be free of flaws, living in luxury while he works at his job that earns him money. He can picture himself working for a high end company, and having a penthouse. It means that no more financial issues, no more worrying about when he’ll have the next meal.

But he’s terrified that it’ll be too  _ perfect _ , a monotonous cycle that goes on days and days, it’ll be like a golden cage. In the cage, Will he turn out like his father? Will he leave everyone behind just for himself? Will he turn out to be something that’s more destructive than he is today? Will his apartment grow with empty beers, where he’ll sit on a golden throne with his empty whiskey bottles.

He doesn't know.

He keeps on running, feeling the soles of his feet burn at every step. The winter sun is starting to feel like summer again, back at his uncle’s boat where he’ll suffer from too many sunburns on his back. He runs just like after big arguments that formed at his childhood house, he’ll run for ends and be back at midnight.

He doesn't know where he’s going.

Dex keeps on running, passing by multiple parks and sweating through his clothes. His limbs start to ache.

He finds an alleyway that smells of garbage and it’s late into the afternoon.

He runs into the alleyway and almost collapses onto the dumpster because he’s that exhausted. He sits against the brick wall, heaving for exhaustion into his lungs. Maybe he can just stay here, lie down and become part of the alleyway. No thoughts. He can just  _ be _ .

He takes out his cigarette.

He feels his phone buzz for messages.

He ignores it all.

He hesitates with the fifty calls from Nursey.

What he doesn’t expect is to see Whiskey in front of him, sweat in his hair and wearing jeans, sneakers, as well as a graphic t-shirt and a coat that he thinks belongs to Devy.

“How the fuck did you find me?” Dex grumbles, he extinguishes the cigarette by pushing it into the ground, “I don’t want you here, go away.”

“Tracking thing, from Bitty,” Whiskey waves his phone at him, he cocks his head at him, “are you drunk?”

“I wish I was,” Dex hums, “did they send you off to find me?”

“No,” Whiskey says, he shoves his phone into his pocket and sits next to Dex on the disgusting and cold ground, “Chowder and Denice was trying to find you, but everyone else was chill. Nursey though....”

Dexx feels pain pang inside his chest.

“I swear I’m like the only one that uses their fucking brain,” Whiskey continues, “you wanna get back now? Nursey’s worried sick.”

_ Nursey _ . He’s not quite ready to face him yet, to see his worry on his face and disappointment that says:  _ you could’ve done so much better for yourself, I was worried sick, how could you?  _ He can delay that for just a little bit.

Dex shakes his head.

Whiskey clears his throat. Dex thinks he knows what’s going to happen next.

“I uh….” Whiskey pauses, searching for words, “argued with Devy.”

And that means it’s either  _ bad _ , or something minor. Because Devy has the same chill as Nursey. He floats with ease and is easy to get along with. He never overreacts, only just responds with  _ cool _ or maybe the occasional rant or so on the topic. But arguments, the closest one Devy has gotten to that is maybe about Hockey teams.

Dex dryly chuckles, “did you piss him off?   
  


“I just… we were on the ice practising and we walked about some stuff,” Whiskey clears his throat, sitting up straight and fiddling with his fingers before he continues, “I just had a disagreement with him and said I wasn’t ready with some stuff, and he said it was fine, then I said it wasn’t and—”

“—you think it ruined everything with your friendship with Devy,” Dex says. He looks at Whiskey, looking uncomfortable with the word  _ friendship _ . Weird.

Whiskey just nods.

“So you didn’t want to deal with that so you ran away from the problem?”

Whiskey sighs, “I’ll deal with it later.”

“Then that later turns into an hour, then a day. Then into a never,” Dex says, he starts to pull memories from his mind, from the boy that he lost into the wind, from himself, saying over and over again that he’ll deal with it later, “trust me I uh, did that thing before. Not good to  _ internalise  _ whatever the hell Nursey says.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Huh?”

“You ran away from Nursey or something?”

Dex shakes his head, “no it’s something else.”

“He’s been calling you non-stop.”

“I know.”

“So does it have to do with him?” 

Goddamit this kid has him by the throat.

“Kinda, not really,” Dex says, “I don’t fucking know. Not yet— _ don’t call me a hypocrite. I will deal with it later _ —but not right now. I-I just need time for myself to think.”

Whiskey nods, goes quiet. 

And the thing is, this quiet with a stranger is making him think. Nursey, he’s chill and calm and collected, but when something is detrimental and terrifying happens to him. It hits him  _ hard _ , he’s seen through just bits and pieces of it. Nursey going into a trance, going quiet and small, staying in his room. Panic attacks. Sudden shift of emotions.

Fuck.

He fucked up by making Nursey worry about  _ him _ .

He’s hurting him.

Dex stands up, but he suddenly has to balance himself by holding on the dumpster. He bites his lip, suddenly feeling this overwhelming feeling of failure and dread grow into a tidal wave. He tenderly cares for Nursey, and now he’s worried sick for him because he’s a fucking idiot and needed to run from own problem.

“You okay?” Whiskey asks. He puts a hand on his elbow, there’s a sympathetic look on his face that he doesn't see often. Whiskey looks at him like someone who’s older, who has more experience and time, someone who knows more. He looks at him like some sort of guidance.

But the thing is though; Dex doesn’t know where he’s going. He’s blindly going wherever he thinks he should go, and Whiskey follows.

“I’m fine,” he manages to breathe out.

===

By the time they get back to the Haus, it’s dark out. First thing he’s suddenly enveloped into a hug by Chowder, the  _ tight  _ kind of one, with his head tucked into his neck and hands around his back, gripping his coat. Chowder sighs when he pulls away from him, hands on his head and walking in a circle.

“Dude, I thought you were dead,” Chowder says, Denice walks up to Dex to quickly as him if he’s fine and he nods as answer, “where the fuck were you?’

“Work?”

“Your shifts aren’t that long, Nursey memorized them,” Chowder asks, meanwhile Tango looks at him all confused, “you weren’t answering your phone, and like, you  _ never  _ do that.”

Next to him Whiskey gives him a slight smile, before going into the kitchen, “I’m sorry I must’ve had it muted or something, I just… was doing something and must’ve not noticed, sorry.”

“Okay just,” Chowder looks at him, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, “just remember you can tell us  _ anything _ . Okay?”

Is he even ready to spill what he’s hiding? He doesn't think so, there’s too many leaking pipes for everyone to see, some areas are completely broken while others are just forgotten. He needs to fix himself before he can let it all out into the open. He needs to heal.

“Yeah,” Dex nods, “I know.”   
  


He’s not quite there yet, but still. .

Chowder sighs.

“Where’s Nursey?” Dex says, suddenly rising in uncertainty, impatience. 

Chowder looks at him with eyes full of worry, “I don’t know he left the Haus, he could be in the library or in the park or—”

—Dex is already out the door, panting, running at night with flickering street lights that coats the street with a yellow hue. Long shadows cast on the ground and he thinks that the LAX bros are throwing a party (again) and the neighbourhood dogs bark at him but he doesn’t care. He’s running, he’s owning up for making Nursey worry for him.

Unlike Jonathan, the one that he lost. Bruises from sports, he grew worried and when he asked, Dex would shake him off and tell him he’s fine. It’s one factor of how they grew distant, he doesn’t want that with Nursey. He’s  _ different _ . He thinks he can actually have something  _ real  _ with him, like shopping for beds together kind of thing.

If Nursey is covered with all beautiful things and ivory green plants, then Dex is the raging sun that burns for him. He needs to cool down, to let himself steep into something that’s just warm. 

And that love for him is  _ scary _ . But he doesn’t let it stifle out, he lets it turn into something warm. He won’t let it run away from him this time. Not anymore.

He runs and runs.

He goes into the library and looks for him there.

In the buildings.

In the quads.

He calls Nursey’s phone.

He doesn't answer.

“Fuck,” Dex says, “fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ .”

He looks into the street, and something catches his eye. The car that drives by is strangely similar to Nursey—it  _ is  _ Nursey’s car. Something quickly shifts inside him and somehow his body moves in it’s own, because one minute he’s standing on the sidewalk. .

And the next moment he’s in the middle of the road in front of Nursey’s car. Not caring if he gets hit, or how the headlights blind him.

He doesn't get hit. Nursey breaks just in time and the car sits two meters away from him.

What he does get is rather  _ pissed  _ Nursey stepping out of his car and striding with ease, he looks like he wants to kill Nursey. His eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes look red and puffy and he looks so exhausted and tired.

Nursey slams the door behind him, “what the fuck! What the actual fuck Dex!” He yells, and there’s this anger that comes out of him that Dex didn’t expect, he walks towards Dex, “you don’t get to show up like that when I spent three hours looking for you because i  _ know  _ you always answer your phone.”

Nursey looks at him, pain in his eyes. He thinks he sees tears in his eyes. His hands curling into fists at his side. The harsh headlights cast long shadows on the street, while Nursey stands there, not knowing what to do. 

Dex pulls him into a tight hug.

And he doesn't care that there in the middle of the street or that strangers might be looking into him but Dex hugs him tight, burying his head into the crook of his shoulder. He allows himself to be soft, to apologize first through his touches and gentleness that he’s still trying to learn. 

“I’m sorry,” Dex says into his shoulder, “I made you worry about me. Fuck. I just… thought about things, like my dad, and ran, and almost got lost and almost got hit by a car from you.”

“You’re a fucking dickhead,” Nursey says, “don’t ever do that. You tell me,  _ please _ ,” he pulls away from him, “okay?”

Dex chuckles, “okay, okay.”

Nursey pulls away from the hug, sighing, “all I ask is a simple text next time. Okay? A-and you don’t have to tell everything right away if you’re not ready, that’s fine. But I’ll be here, waiting for you,” his green eyes swim with something else, “don’t do that shit again, you scared the shit out of him.”

Just by not answering his phone. 

And Nursey knows he  _ always  _ answers his phone.

“You sure you’re not overreacting?” Dex jokes.

“Fuck off,” Nursey hums, “I was worried sick.”

They share a silence for a bear, then Nursey’s face shifts, he looks at Dex, “you wanna talk about it?” Nursey asks.

Dex nods.

They climb into his clean and expensive car, the leather feels nice against his skin. Nursey starts to drive, putting on a random pop song on the radio to fill the silence between them.

“Where do you wanna go?” Nursey asks.

“Anywhere,” Dex says.

Nursey weakly smiles. He turns the corner. Dex finds himself relaxing, he fully melts into the chair and feels the crisp and cold air burn his throat when he breathes. There’s the smell of cinnamon and vanilla that comes from the car freshener, dangling from the rearview mirror. It’s so  _ Nursey _ .

But he lets his mind wander— _ he has to remind himself that he can do that, delve deep into his thoughts, he’s facing them _ —and he lets himself think about him and Nursey, even though they’re new. This whole  _ thing _ is new, born out of repressed feelings and quiet secrets. They’re in the deep end, and they’re actually something. 

He has to remind himself that they’re different, not him and that boy back in his hometown but something  _ different _ . They’re good, the both of them. He watches Nursey pull into an empty parking lot, nothing but a light on that dimly brightens up the dark and cold lot. The sky is a deep dark, and there’s a few buildings that surround it.

He looks out the window.

They’re near the highway.

“You don’t have to talk you know,” Nursey hums, “we can just sit here, or something.”

“I want to though,” Dex says.

Nursey nods.

“My brother called after I got off work,” Dex starts, “just moved into LA with someone and they’re doing fine, I think. But uh, he… brought up our  _ dad _ .”

Dex takes a shaky breath that he didn’t mean to take.

Nursey rests his hand on top of his.

“My dad was good before, he was nice before everything fucked up. Arguments and like him being an alcoholic, everything went downhill. Mum divorced him, uncle said he went to Australia. He always wanted to go there,” Dex dryly chuckles, “but my brother, he said that he wants to see him back again.”

“Do you want to see him again?” Nursey asks.

  
He opens his mouth to speak, but he closes it. It should be an easy answer, just an easy  _ no _ . But a part of him wants that childhood back again, his  _ dad _ . The man that always was behind him, while his mum was somewhere else. He whispered the words to him when he was younger that said:  _ remember that I’ll always be here, no matter what you are or who you choose to be _ .

“I don’t know,” he says. 

“You don’t have to know.”

“I  _ have  _ to know.”

“You don’t need to know the answers right now  _ Will _ ,” Nursey whispers, he rubs his thumb against his knuckles, “you know that, right?”

Dex brings their hands together and kisses Nursey’s knuckles softly, “I know, but I just—I think—I think I just miss him,” he kisses his knuckles again, then brings their hands together on his lap again. His thoughts start to spark up again, and he’s thinking about the next steps.

“I also want to come out,” Dex says. 

He can’t believe he lets it out of his lips. When he looks at Nursey, he smiles. He’s so full of kindness.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Dex nods, “I already came out to Devy, but that’s it.”

“Chowder first?” Nursey asks.

Dex nods, “Chowder first, then maybe just let it casually slip out then they’ll just pick up the fact we’re dating.” He lets another breath out, looking at their two hands together. He wonders the other times when they’ll link their hands together, perhaps on the ice or just going into the store.

But also maybe in front of the altar.

The thought scares him.

“I’m so proud of you,” Nursey hums, “holy shit.”

Dex sees how his smile grows brighter and larger, his white teeth showing, skin washed in a shade of sepia. His eyes are so kind, his jawline shifting as his throat bobs. 

“Really?”

“Why wouldn’t it?” Nursey wiggles his eyebrows.

They collapse into a random fit of laughter and he starts to feel like a teenager again, the sort of _ young love and falling in it _ type. He feels so  _ alive  _ right now, and everything in him feels like he’s top of the world. He’s standing on the edge of the world, gaining back his years and staring at his world rebuild up again.

Nursey looks at him.

He loves this man so  _ much _ .

Dex kisses him softly and full of softness. It’s not the peck kiss kind, it’s tangible and so  _ real _ . And he’s revelling in it, feeling the random pop song bounce around the car and the air feels electric. Dex pushes and pushes, and when he pulls away he smiles and looks into the dark sky.

“I’m going to come out,” Dex says.

They drive back high in joy. Nursey rests his hand on his leg and does that thing with his thumb and he feels himself sigh. They run down the hallway with hands linked and yell at Chowder to save them some leftovers. When they step into Dex’s room and flick on the lights Dex sighs in relief.

“Do you think they know?” Nursey asks, he looks around his room, taking off his coat and putting it on the chair. Dex does the same.

“They better fucking know,” Dex chuckles.

He kisses him and collapses on the bed, and they’re a tangle of limbs and warm bodies. When he wakes up, he finds that Nursey’s tucked into his side, hand thrown across his chest and head on his chest. It’s cute, a soft moment that he finds himself smiling at, revelling in this domesticality.

But Nursey’s heavy.

“Hey,” Dex nudges Nursey, “wake up you’re so heavy.”

Nursey groans but doesn’t stir awake.

  
“Babe, come on.”

Nursey doesn’t say anything at that time.

“Get off, come on,” Dex tries to sit up, looking at his alarm on his desk. It’s ten in the morning, “I need to get up.”

He finally stirs awake, groaning and opening one of his eyes, he only digs himself into his bed and into Dex.

“I have classes.”

“Stay,” Nursey croaks, his voice sleep-ridden and so deep that it’s adorable, “fuck your classes.”

“Get off,” Dex sighs.

Nursey doesn’t respond for a few seconds, then he draws out a long sigh, “fine.”

He sits up, stumbling out of the bed and stretching his arms. Nursey took off his shirt in the middle of the night, and in the dim morning with the light creeping underneath the door he sees his back. Dex knows he’s lean, he works out less than Dex but he’s strong. He saw him in the changing room before.

But it’s different this time, because he can see his muscles defined by dim light, it looks like he’s carved out by cement, deep brown skin. His shoulders look soft and built, unlike Dex. His chest and back is covered with freckles like paint, embedded into his skin like some curse. Dex is rough.

Nursey is full of softness.

They do their morning routine and eventually the next few days roll by. It’s a weird fall of routine that they go through, since they don’t see each other as much, it’s soft touches that Dex finds himself engaging first. It’s him going out of his way to visit Nursey in the library to get him iced coffee from Annie’s or maybe getting his books for him. Nursey sometimes visits his building just to pop by and pull him out of his work when he looks like he’s stressed.

Dex is still learning this softness. It’s not perfect. But it’s  _ something _ .

It’s late morning when he gets back from the library after getting  _ at least  _ a bit of work done, he walks into the kitchen and sighs, putting his bag on the table next to Chowder, who’s eating leftover pie.

“Hey,” Dex says, he sits next to him, pushing the bag away sitting back on his chair.

“You good?”   
  


“Exhausted, I’ll be fine,” Dex responds.

“Hey guys,” Nursey walks into the kitchen, holding an empty cup of tea.

“Hey Nurse,” Dex hums.

It all comes out as telegraphed and awkward greetings. Dex hates it. They talked about how they should take it slow, and only come out when Dex is  _ comfortable  _ too. Dex hates how they have to pretend to be friends, just nothing more than that.

He wants to do it now.

“Nurse, can you come here?” Dex asks, he turns to face him.

He puts his cup on the sink and looks at Dex and he just  _ knows  _ what they’re doing. There’s a smile on his face.

“Chowder, we have something to tell you,” Dex says, already starting to feel hot and sweaty, Nursey stands next to him, hands in his pockets. He needs to force these words out, it’s just one more step.

“Me and Nursey are…” Dex pauses, “dating.”

First Chowder looks at both of them in shock, like he’s dreaming.

Then a second later he stands up and pulls the both of them into a group hug.

It’s rather weird and awkward and Dex has to stand up but it works, it’s all laughter and Chowder telling him how proud the both of them are that they’re  _ finally  _ not killing each other but he feels like a weight off his chest. He allows Chowder to cry, even though he shouldn’t be crying.

But it’s fine.

He looks at Nursey and he looks back.

He smiles.


	16. love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this isn’t edited properly, still busy with school and such! please forgive me
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated!!!!

“So you guys don’t fight anymore?” Chowder asks when they pull apart, now he sits on the table while Nursey brews them a cup of english breakfast tea. The smell is like warmth from the campfire, with the fresh scent of rain drifting in. It helps him calm down with the sudden question that he gets from Chowder.

“Uh…” Dex shifts in his seat.   
  


“Oh we fought over pineapple over pizza a few nights ago,” Nursey chimes in.

“Pineapples are shit  _ Derek  _ and you can’t convince me otherwise.”

“Oh fuck off  _ William _ —”

“—anyways,” Chowder sighs, the kettle starts to whistle and Dex watches as he carefully pours the water into the cups, letting the water sit for a half a minute, Dex realises Nursey always does things carefully with such intimate yet simple things, “I really thought you would be like… romantic and shit.”

“We came from enemies to lovers, 300k, slowburn Chowder what the hell do you expect,” Nursey starts to pour the oat milk into the cups, “you think the fucking banter and arguements would just wear off?”

Chowder shrugs.

Nursey places the three cups onto the table, then he takes one to himself, cupping it like it’s something soft and precious. He gives Dex a soft kiss on top of his head. It’s unexpected, but he likes it. This softness and sweetness that comes from him.

Dex has to remind himself that he has to give back to him.

So he smiles as he takes Nursey’s hand and kisses his knuckle. He’s still not used to this sort of love, inside everything in his body is telling him to stop, to close it all off and go brash and rough again. But he doesn’t, he holds onto this feeling and lets it course throughout his body.

Because that’s what it means to be human, to be so vulnerable and open and oh so  _ soft _ .

“You guys are gross,” Chowder hums, he takes a cup of tea and Dex follows with a chuckle.

“At least we’re never gonna reach Farmer and you level type shit,” Nursey chuckles, he sits on the chair next to Dex.

“Remember when you like, disappeared for a week when you first went out with Farmer?” Dex notes, he remembers how Chowder barely spent any time in the Haus, he was always in her dorms. When he came back, he was covered with hickeys that he attempted to cover with a concealer that was way too light for his skin.

“Leave me alone, that was feminism,” Chowder groans, he pulls his phone out to check his messages.

“Is it the missus?” Nursey points out, “you know we should actually do a double date.”

“So you’re telling all four of us not hanging out wasn’t a double date?” Chowder says.

Nursey chuckles, while Dex goes a deep red. Most of the time when all four of them hung out it was just watching movies or going to the arcade, but there was always at least one moment when he had a sort of  _ moment  _ with Nursey. Something small. A brush of the back of their hands or maybe something in his chest bubbling. 

Next to him Nursey grumbles when he checks his phone, “my philosophy paper is calling me, sorry guys,” he stands up and meets Dex’s eyes, “sorry, I’m heading to the building to get some work done.”

“It’s fine, I’ll pop by your building later after I’m done with classes,” Dex hums, he gives Nursey’s hands a soft squeeze before watching him walk out of the kitchen and go up his room. He turns to look at Chowder, who taps his fingers against the table.

“Hey Dex,” Chowder starts, “I know you usually hate this bullshit and all but I’m grateful for telling me that you and Nursey are dating. Coming out must be fucking exhausting.”

Dex sighs, he dwidles with his thumbs before answering, “I know, I was… terrified. You’re like one of the few people I came out to.” He hasn’t come out to his uncle, or his brother. Or even Bitty. Each time he thinks it would be easier to come out, to put his sexuality out into the world that deams it strange or weird.

“I’ll have your back, you know that right?” Chowder hums, “I’ll be there, every step.”

Dex nods, “I know, thank you man.”

“Now come and give me a hug.”

And Dex does, it’s probably one of the best hugs he gets. Because he feels himself melt into Chowder, putting his head into the crook of his shoulder.

===

It’s late into the afternoon and Nursey stares at his philosophy readings on screen. His classical-music-you're-uncovering-hidden-love-letters-in-a-haunted-library-playlist isn’t loud enough to dull out the too-loud ticking of the clock on the wall. On the table is an assortment of his highlighter and pens, as well as a few textbooks which are the size of the fucking bible.

His mind is going to explode if he has to look at another word on his screen, as much as he loves to read more about the ideas of women in 18th century philosophy and how men dominated the field—

He feels someone tap his shoulder, when he turns around he sees that it’s no one. 

He looks to his left.

It’s Devy. 

“Hey man,” Devy hums, he places a few of his books and his laptop on the table before shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, “you looked like you were out of it.”

“Yeah,” Nursey hums. He’s grateful that Devy is normally in the same building as him, someone who’s also doing humanity and english classes who can share the same pain with him, even though Devy’s focus is psychology, “just trying to do philosophy shit.”

“Descarte?” He asks.

“Fuckign descrate and his bullshit,” Nursey sighs, he opens up his paper and stares at the page count, he’s done enough, he closes the window and crosses his arms, “fucking dualist.. Nah, doing materialist philosophy with more focus on women back in the 18th century.”

“Want me to offer you some company while I pretend to do my psych work?” Devy asks.

Nursey shakes his head, “I’m good, someone else already did that.”

“Who?”

“Dex, he was bored. He brought me iced coffee too.”

Devy stares at him for a moment, full of caution and curiosity as he tries to piece together what it means. Devy wasn’t here when Dex hated his guts, but now they’re something else. But he might’ve already guessed…

  
“Oh,” Devy looks at him, “cool. Guess I’m heading back to the Haus to take a nap.”

“I’ll be there soon,” Nursey hums, “I’ll just waste away some of my time here on my phone.”

“Cool,” Devy stands, taking his stuff up before noticing his phone starts to ring. He starts to pull it out before answering it, “hello? Hey  _ babe _ .”

Devy starts to walk away like nothing is casual and he  _ just  _ didn’t call his partner in front of Nursey. He starts to grow a little bit curious, wondering whether  _ who  _ it is. Hell, it might even be someone in the hockey team. It might be Tango, or perhaps Hops. 

He starts to blow up Dex’s message, bombarding him with questions and theories about who it could be.

===

**_Nursey_ **

_ I mean it might be Whiskey _

**_Dex_ **

_ Idk _

_ Maybe _

Dex sighs and massages the back of his neck, the code in front of him is starting to look like a jumble of mess. Next to him Chowder is deep in work in the computer lab, earbuds in, listening to whale noises to help him concentrate. It’s really weird. Dex decides to turn off his phone and put it flat on the desk.

He needs to get this done.

Because it’s for his future, he’s graduating soon. It sounds easy enough, doing all of the things he has to do like a checklist before he leaves Samwell and becomes someone else. These few years feels like mere split seconds in terms of the vast timeline. It’s scary. He wonders whether his father was like that.

Just a split of a second in his life.

He bites his lip and shakes his head.

He said to himself no more thinking about his dad. He’s gone.

**_Dex_ **

_ Hey _

_ I need a new distraction _

**_Nursey_ **

_ Yeah? _

**_Dex_ **

_ Tell me about the work you’re doing. _

===

Dex actually gets a big chunk of his work done, and he leaves the computer lab with a sort of relief. He shoves all of his things back into his bag and leaves with Chowder as he starts to hear him rant about different softwares.

HIs phone buzzes, expecting it to be Nursey.

It isn’t.

**_Jax_ **

_ Can we talk _

_ About dad _

He leaves him on and read, but it sits like a heavy thing in the back of his mind. It's an angry thing that flares, and everything in him wants to tear it out of him. But he shakes the thought away and starts to delve in deeper in Chowder’s voice and what he’s talking about. It’s easy to delve into that, because he finds himself back into the Haus to quickly swing by to drop some of his stuff and go.

He has a shift at the repair ship.

He heads back to his room and drops his things off and starts to change back into his work clothes, by the time he sends a message to Nursey saying he’s off to work and to Chowder as well the sun’s already starting to set. It reminds him of the sunsets back at home, where sunset hues spill into the clear blue sky and makes it seem so alive.

He smiles.

Dex drives to the repair shop on his truck and to his work.

And each time he fixes a tire or looks into the hood of a car it’s always in the back of his mind. Dex tries to keep his mind occupied, with his nails growing black with tar and charcoal, the radiator humming as it heats up the garage along with the bright fluorescent lights above him. Voices from his co-workers start to sound blurry and mushed because he keeps thinking about things.

Which is strange and new to him, because usually he’s supposed to have collective thoughts and have a perfect schedule, he’s supposed to be in check of his emotions— _ besides his fury and anger _ —and everything in him is already tired of having to think. He shouldn’t be hungover his dad.

He’s out of the picture. 

He almost drops a battery on his foot.

His boss forces him to leave early because he seems so distracted. 

So he sits inside his truck at 6 P.M with the heater barely working, all it does is give Dex a headache. He stares at his screen, biting his lip, wanting to respond to his brother to say no. He doesn’t want to talk to his dad. But a part of him wants to know why, and the how. His fingers are grasping for closure that might not even be there.

He sighs and takes his phone and scrolls all the way to Nursey’s contact and calls him. It takes about five rings before he picks up.

“Hey Nurse,” Dex hums, he starts to chip away at the black parts of his fingernails, “do you have anything you’re doing right now?’

“Yeah but… I could go for a break.”

“I’ll pick you up.”

“What are we doing?”

Dex quickly makes an excuse up in his head, “shopping.”

“Shopping?”

“Thrifting, because I’m broke,” Dex says, “I'm out of clothes and shit. You mind helping me pick out some clothes?”

“Sure,” there’s shuffling in the background, “It’s just my fashion sense is just so exquisite.”

“Nurse you literally dropped your whole hipster act after freshman year and started to act like a stereotypical jock.”

“Okay and? You know what I feel like bringing hipster Nursey back.”

“Ugh,” Dex says lightheartedly, he feels his chest buzz with warmth, “be ready in ten, I’ll meet you there.”

“Okay.”

Dex hangs up, he stares at the radio and starts to hook up his phone to his radio that’s kinda working. He shoves the question deep down and sighs, leaning back on his seat and scratched parts of his seat bite against his back. He really should replace the seat of his truck, but it isn’t really not worth.

He plays one of Nursey’s favourite songs and starts to think about what they’re gonna do today. He can focus on making Nursey feel good, not him right now. If Nursey feels happy, then Dex is. He drives back to the Haus and sees him walking out of the Haus, cuffed washed blue jeans with one of Dex’s actual good hoodies. The soft, creme brown matches his shoes.

“Hey,” Nursey hums when he gets in the car.

“Hi,” Dex answers.

Nursey looks at the radio, then back to Dex.

“You’re listening to SZA.”

“Yeah,” Dex starts to drive, “why?”

“Nothing just… realised it.”

They drive not in the awkward silence that they used to have when they used to be at each other’s throat but it’s the soft, comfortable one. One where they don’t have to say anything to each other, just letting the silence speak to each other. Through the humming from Nursey or Dex pointing out random things on the road they work so  _ well _ it feels electrifying.

The thrift shop that they drive to is about twenty minutes away, and it’s one of the cheap and better thrift shops out there.

“So you gonna tell me why you brang me here?” Nursey asks when they step outside, the winter chill creeping up on the both of them. Dex shivers as they cross the parking lot.

“Well… my boss kicked me out because I was distracted… and I thought that you needed a break from studying so I thought I would bring you here, that a good enough answer?” Dex says.

“So it’s a date?”

Dex rolls his eyes, “sure.”

A few minutes later they’re already ruffling through the racks of clothes, a random country song quietly echoing through the whole store. He lets Nursey talk about whatever the hell the colours go together and proportions, he takes a few graphic t-shirt and as well as a hoodie and throws it at Dex.

“Nurse I don’t think I can get all of this.”

“Oh,” Nursey turns to look at him, a smile on his face, “that’s for me.”

“Well I’ll pay for it.”

“Dex.”

“Nurse.” He already knows how Dex has a thing about paying for things, and  _ he  _ always pays for other people, but doesn’t get himself good ‘luxuries’ for himself. It might be a ‘poor’ thing that he grew up with. He doesn’t really know.

“No I can,” Dex says, “I got paid a few days ago. It’s cool.”

Nursey opens his mouth to speak, but then he lets his mouth rest into a thin line before turning around to rack through the different clothes. “Okay, that’s fine.”

No arguments or anything. Just a simple agreement. It’s weird how Dex isn’t used to it, he thought they would explode into a ten minute argument that’ll end in an annoying silence afterwards. 

After Nursey decides that maybe ten is enough they start to look for Dex’s clothes. Nursey doesn’t pressure him to get the fancy clothes or the one that’s vibrant, he doesn’t point out things that he should get. Instead, all he does is slowly lock their fingers together while Nursey blurts out a couple of things he should get. Colours that would look good. If it fits his ‘style’ (“Poindexter you do have style you just have to find it” Nursey says.)

And it’s so… good and so casual and so domestic, something that Dex hasn’t done before. He allows Nursey to give him recommendations even though he doesn’t care that it’s off-white or if it ‘suits him’ because he never cared about how it looks, only if it’s cheap and he can wear it.

Now he looks at himself in the mirror. He doesn't look like the kid that grew up on the shores of Maine, with too many sunburns and too many freckles, with holes on his hoodie and jeans that were too big for him. Everything was a hand me down back at his rickety house. He was young then, just a teenager who was full of so much anger and hated everything.

But now he’s an adult, he looks so clean and put together. His hair looking like pure gold under the lights, growing it out to be a shaggy mullet because Nursey said it would suit him. It matches his eyes, and as well at the small smiles on his face when he looks at the cuffed jeans that  _ fits  _ him, with a brown flannel thrown over a deeper and darker brown hoodie.

He wonders what his younger self would tell if he’s staring at him right now. Or maybe his younger self, the one that used to be himself is already gone. Maybe, he can’t get him back anymore. He already left before Dex can reach out, his childhood is already fading, what if he can’t remember it anymore. What if his dad—

“You okay Dex?” Nursey stands next to him in front of the mirror, holding his hand.

“I’m fine,”  _ he lies _ , “just thinking,”  _ he’s thinking again _ .

Nursey pulls his phone out and stares at the messages, his soft smile turns into a frown, eyes in deep concern. 

“You okay?” Dex looks at Nursey in the mirror, he shoves his phone into his pockets.

“It’s just family stuff,” Nursey draws out a long breath before continuing, “they’re blowing up the family chat about the company and I’m really worried.”

“I’m sorry,” Dex brings their joined fingers to his lips and kisses the back of Nursey’s hands softly, “you wanna sit in my car for a minute or two.”

Nursey nods.

They pay for all of their things from Nursey’s card (they argued about that again) and quickly shuffles all of it into a bag, and once they get inside Nursey’s car everything is still. There’s no music, and the heater hums. Nursey rests his head on Dex’s shoulder while they stare out into the parking lot that’s already clearing up.

The sun is setting, and it lights up everything in front of him.

Nursey goes quiet, and that’s how he slowly breaks. He goes quiet. He molds into Dex even more, clasping his hands and staring at their hands while Dex reassures him, his thumb rubbing against the back of Nursey’s hand. He presses a kiss against Nursey’s temple, and it didn’t feel awkward or heavy like his other kisses. He’s making progress.

Good.

He doesn't press any further and presses all of his hurt six feet down. He can deal with it later, for now he can comfort Nursey as they stare at the sun coming down in the parking lot.

===

When they get back to the Haus, they realize that it’s empty.

The floorboards creak under their steps and it’s the only noise except for the soft snores that comes from the living room. Nursey and Dex stare at each other before deciding to step into the living room.

They find Devy and Whiskey asleep on the couch, all limbs tangled and Whiskey on top of Devy. It’s adorable.

Nursey pulls his phone out.

Dex whispers not to.

Nursey groans and they decide to take this one to the grave. Nursey whispers fine before telling him that he has to go to the library to work on his english homework. He tells him he’s gonna be there till midnight. Nothing but books surrounding him and too much iced coffee to drink.

And that means he’s gonna be alone in his room, with nothing but his unfinished work surrounding him that he should be doing but he can’t. Because his thoughts are gonna be there in every step, he’s getting good at handling them, but right now it’s seeping through the cracks.

He knows he should let the thoughts wash over him to heal, to get through it.

But it’s hard.

He goes into his room in the basement, flips on the light and pulls out a box underneath his bed and finds his emergency stash of beer. He hears it hiss when he opens it, and it’s disgustingly warm as it goes down his throat. But he feels this buzz bubble inside him.

He should be doing his work.

But the future and everything is quickly piling and maybe he doesn’t have to deal with it right now.

**_Dex_ **

_ i knwo youre studying or whatever so maybe dont answer this _

_ But there’s something that you do that really that i notice and it’s really weird _

_ You’re soft _

_ So fiucking soft it drives me insane nurse _

_ youreawfully clumsy and all that shit, you drink too much caffiene and sometimes i think youre pretentious, but you’re soft with all the weird things you do and you take take care of your plans and you sing to them.  _

_ youre always out there, so open so bright sometimes, with your words _

_ I think your words are pretty by the way _

_ but i like how you do that with your smile, the corner of your lips, it curves.maybe i can pinch or something but you do it so effortlessly, your lazy smiles. you give away so much of yourself without meaning to, like a fully annotated open book that you have in your bookshelf, all broken spines and shit. _

_ maybe i can learn from you, spread our your page and copy your metaphors and see where it leads, or some shit like that, or maybe i can see how you space out your words, let me map you out, see your heart so i can learn from you to be like the sun, or the water that somehow dug it’s way into the cliff of my heart _

_ how do you do it _

_ It drives me crazy _

_ Idk _

_ Nurse _

_ Hey _

_ I just think i love you _

Fuck.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, he can smell the cheap beer from his breath. He didn’t mean to say those words out loud, he’s not ready. What happens next? Would Nursey tell him no? It’s too early to see those sacred three words? Or maybe nothing would happen, and it’ll create a riff that’ll keep going and going.

He’s panicking.

He can control his breathing somewhat but his mind is drifting off to so many places. He needs to talk to someone, Whiskey and Devy are still asleep and Nursey is still busy. Chowder is out with Farmer and the Haus is empty for tonight. He has three options.

He calls his uncle.

And his dad.

They go straight to voicemail. He doesn’t blame them, they’re probably busy.

But somehow, his third option goes through and he puts it on speaker and holds his phone so carefully.

“Oh Dex!” Bitty pipes from the other end of the line, there’s music from the background that he turns down, “how are you? I didn’t expect you to call today but we haven’t spoken in so long. Is everything all right?”

He wants to lie, but he just sighs and says, “no.”

There’s silence from the other end of the line and Dex’s heart drops. However, he hears the sound of a door closing and Bitty sighing, “talk to me Dex. What’s wrong.”

The way that he talks is so gentle that it reminds him of his dad, he suddenly feels a sense of calm wash over him as he tries to speak, “I uh…” he pauses, slurring a little.

“Are you drunk? Where are you? Do I need to call someone?”

“I’m at the Haus, just.. Drunk. But I think I messed up.”

“What do you mean?”

The shackles and ball feels like it’s barely there, he realises he’s going to come out again today. He trusts Bitty, out of everyone in the house there were moments where he often came to him just to bake in the kitchen, or when he needed to talk to someone. It feels easy to talk to Bitty.

“I said… I love you to Nurse.”

It’s easier every single time. The weight lifts off his chest.

“Oh Dex,” Bitty says, Dex brings his phone closer, “did he say anything back?”

“He’s busy… studying…,” Dex starts, he tries to steady his shaky voice, he sniffles, “but I’m new to it all, with him. And it’s so fucking scary to let him in.”

“ _ William _ ,” Bitty says his name with such fondness, “I know that feeling. I thought I was ready to bring Jack in during the first parts of our relationship but I thought I wasn’t, I had to sort a lot of things out myself. Jack helped me, and I helped him too. Does it feel like that with Nurse?”

“Yes,” Dex says, “because after all these years, I always loved him. It’s always been him. Fuck—I mean it feels like I don’t deserve him. He’s so soft and full of so much love, he’s out there in the open and… I can’t be that.”

“Sweetheart, he’s lucky to have you,” Bitty says, Dex feels himself cry.

“Is he?”   
  


“Yes, you’re so strong and brave and you’re so stubborn. You’re so thoughtful and determined, and you don’t let go of things. I mean, you’re a great captain from what I see in your games. But you care, a lot. Don’t lie to yourself, through all of your skin you care for that man so much you would die for him. Am I right?”

“Yes,” he says weakly.

“He deserves you and the whole world, okay? Don’t let yourself anything else, and it might be awkward that you said it early in your relationship but that’s fine. I mean, I’m pretty sure I did the same thing with Jack.”

Dex chuckles and wipes the tears from his eyes, “really?”

“It was embarrassing, I don’t want to talk about it. But he loves you, okay? Don’t let yourself think of anything else, and if you want to talk about anything else I’m always here.”

Dex sighs, “It always feels like I’m close to breaking down.”

“It’s tough, figuring out who you are, your first steps in a relationship, close to grand finals and graduating. I don’t blame you Dex.”

“Thank you… I really needed to hear that.”

Bitty sighs, “we haven’t baked in a while, we should schedule one soon.”

Dex smiles, he appreciates this subject of change, “I’ve been trying to bake with Whiskey but… it isn’t going so well.”

“How is he?”

“We’ve grown together I think, and I managed to get through to him. I took your advice, to be patient with him. And I think he’s in a relationship with Devy.”

“Oh bless their hearts,” Bitty chuckles, “he’ll make a good captain, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you need me to keep your company? I’m free for two hours until Jack comes back.”

Dex sees a message pop up from the top of his screen.

It’s Nursey.

**_Nursey_ **

_ Are u drunk?? _

_ Damn you’re a fucking poet dex _

**_Dex_ **

_ Yea _

_ Im sorry _

_ For saying i love you _

**_Nursey_ **

_ Hey _

_ Don’t apologise _

_ I love you too _

“I’ll be fine,” Dex answers.

**_Nursey_ **

_ I’m coming there right now _

**_Dex_ **

_ Thank you _

“That’s good, call me when you need anything,” Bitty says.

He hangs up.

And Dex realises, that everyone around him is there to help him. They’re not there to cast him out to the wild, they’re here with him.

His brother’s phone number flashes on screen. He probably wants to talk about why he called, or maybe his dad. Or maybe both.

With a shaky breath he answers.

  
  
  



	17. on the ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall! im so excited for these last few chapters to roll in and im so excited for this fic to close to a final (sadly) and im also planning a epilogue! very busy so i couldnt edit this chapter properly, mb!
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated

Dex ends hanging up halfway through the call, it was too much for him.

===

Nursey should be paying attention to his philosophy class, but it’s only eight in the morning and he’s still waiting for the iced latte that he drank a few minutes ago to kick in. The macbook in front of him has tabs on random things that’s totally not related to the lecture (shoes to get for Dex as a gift, his pinterest account, his twitter account) and he’s starting to zone out.

He looks at his hands and imagines another taking it, full of calloused skin. It’s hesitant and shaky, not quite ready to dive into the full thing. Nursey should be the one to guide them, to take the first step into the dark.

But Nursey is just as new as Dex. He did hookups with random strangers at ungodly hours and doing the walk of shame back to his dorms at three. He always falls in love a little bit with each and everyone with them, maybe it’s their shaky breaths that come and go, or their eyes, or their gentle touches that shouldn’t happen in hookups.

And now he has the real thing.

And it’s scary. He should be leading, he should know  _ everything  _ about sex and love and intimacy and how they should work, but they’re new, like a new springing plant that he hasn’t quiet gotten the hang of to take care. They’re like an incomplete stanza of a poem, trying to make it to the other end of the line.

After class he takes his things and calls his mum, she answesr within a few rings. 

“Derek? Is something wrong?” His mum says through the phone, there’s the sound of keyboard clicking and a mug being put down. She must be at the office.

“Is it a bad time to call? Because if so I can call back—”

“— _ Derek Malik Nurse _ ,” she’s pulling out the full name, Nursey swallows against his dry throat and makes his way outside, “I’ve raised you myself and changed your diapers, I have seen you cry and shit yourself in your first day of school and saw your first crush on that poor boy in kindergarten. I’m  _ never  _ too busy for you.”

He doesn’t know what to respond to, he just does a shaky laugh and sits down underneath a tree.

“What’s the matter dear,” she whispers with a fond tone, and it’s everything that he’s missed.

“It’s about the boy.”

“Did you two break up? Baby please don’t tell me you broke that poor boy’s heart.”

“It’s not that, it’s just… he’s new to this. Like. All of it,” he pauses, pulling at the grass that hasn’t quite frozen yet underneath him, “and I have the expectations to do everything but before all of this, all I did was hookups and shit. I’m terrified, because what If I mess everything up with him? Fuck, like he deserves the whole world and it feels like I’m not enough for him. He’s too good...”

He trails off, his eyes somehow wet with tears. He blinks it away and takes a deep breath of the cold air that burns his throat. 

The pause follows for more than a few seconds.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, feeling like a little kid again with his mum, sitting on his tiny bed while she whispers a lullaby.

Another second passes.

Then:

“Oh sweetheart. You remind me of myself,” she says, he can hear the smile on her face, “when your dad and I started dating he was new to all of this, I only did booty calls. I was ‘experienced’ out of the two of us, I was fully queer, he was still trying to figure out his sexuality and his identity. I… said to myself that I would lead us, and it broke me a lot, and that’s where he would come in, to help me,” she pauses, typing something before continuing “don’t make the same mistake as me, let yourself become new to this. Otherwise it can ruin you. That boy is lucky to have you, and he’s lucky to have you. Remember that, okay?”

Nursey doesn’t know what to say. He stays breathless for a second, then a sudden intake of oxygen rushes into his lungs and he smiles to himself.

“Thank you.”

“Now,” she clears her throat, “tell me more about that boy, please. I can’t decide whether to hate him or love him.”

“Ma!”

===

Dex was supposed to practise his puck shots alone in the rink.

Instead he sits at the centre of the ice, staring at the ceiling. Wondering when it’ll all crumble down and dissipate. He always did this, like a habit that still sticks to him back when he was a teenager, sitting or laying in the middle of his room and staring and staring at the ceiling, letting random thoughts wash over him.

What if they had a car that didn’t break down.

What if he only liked girls and instead he didn’t crush on his best friend.

What if he was rich.

  
Normal lower class thoughts. 

Now he doesn’t have to worry about money, he has a job and he’s doing a scholarship. He has a promising future where he doesn't have to worry about running out of food. It’s strange and weird, he can just… be. He even has someone that loves him, even though it’s still early on. 

But sometimes he still feels like that teenager back at Maine, in a little town with too much anger that boils in his blood that he could control. 

He sighs.

The door opens and when he turns, he sees Nursey. Looking all soft and cuddly, sweatpants and a Samwell hoodie with the strings missing, with a hockey bag slung over his shoulders.

“Hey,” he says leaning over the boards and smiling, “you good?”

“Yeah just… thinking,” Dex replies.

“What kind of thinking.”

“Stuff,” Dex says, “a lot of stuff.”

“Are you okay?” Nursey asks genuinely, and they’re getting good at this, communicating to each other, talking about feelings. That sort of thing, Dex clears his throat and nods. And it’s enough for Nursey.

“We have to leave soon, roadie and all,” Nursey hums.

“I know I just, can you sit with me, here? I know it’s weird and all but, you help me think.”

Dex feels his cheeks flush hot.

Nursey doesn't’ say anything, then, “why the fuck not,” and there’s this smile on his face as he fishes out the skates from his hockey bad and immediately puts them on the bench, then hops over the board and skates towards him.

“Hey,” Dex says.

“Hi,” Nursey hums, he sits down on the ice next to Dex, “jesus it’s cold.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“What are we staring at?” Nursey asks.

“The ceiling.”

“Why?” Nursey lets his head rest on Dex’s shoulder, this sort of touch is soft, Dex melts into it and links their fingers together.

“It helps me think,” Dex replies, but slowly all of his thoughts shift from from the past and his family and to the present, here, with Nursey. It grounds him.

“Think about what?”

“About us,” Dex hums, “I’ve just been thinking, I guess. And it’s really scary, I know that. But I want this, with you. Like the whole shit like moving into a house together, and like bringing breakfast to you type thing?” Dex buries his head into Nursey’s neck, “that was so gross.”

“That was so poetic.”

“Fuck off.”

They dissolve into an easy going laughter that turns into a banter, and it’s good.  _ Really good _ . And when he looks at Nursey, Dex. Well, Dex is so in love that he could die right there and then. He thinks that he falls in love with Nursey each time, with his soft and gentle touches, with his stupid poetry.

And here he is, with the early morning sun lighting up his whole skin making him so holy. Let the sins fall into his lap, he can confess a million times as he fills the air with prayers and scriptures.

When they head back to the bus for their roadie, Chowder gives them a look.

“What?” Dex asks, Nursey stands next to him, probably scrolling through twitter. After a second, Nursey looks up and smiles at Dex.

“You guys are gross,” Chowder groans, they climb up to the bus and silently groan through the coach's speech. Then Dex stands up from his seat to do a quick speech too, with Nursey on the window seat. There’s a lump in his throat as he swallows it down, everyone is staring, waiting for him to say something.

He finds Nursey’s hands.

“We’re approaching the finals,” Dex starts, “and these last few games will be one of our most important ones that we play. We have a reputation to uphold, to win for a second time, to start a legacy from Samwell. But I want to tell you something else,” he pauses, looking at Whiskey who’s giving him his whole entire attention, “it doesn’t matter if we win or not. What matters to me, as your captain is to leave a mark in the rink. Do I make myself clear?”

Everyone hums a yes.

  
“Well, let’s hit the road.”

He quickly sits down and the bus settles into a hush of conversations, he drops his captain act and dissolves into his seat. 

“You okay?” Nursey asks next to him, he hands an earbud to him, probably a true crime podcast that he’s listening to.

Dex takes it. “Yeah I’m fine.”

They spend the rest of the roadie either listening to the podcast and cringing when the podcasts describes the brutal murder, Nursey simply laughs at his reactions. Dex catches a few windows of naps here and there, using Nursey’s shoulder for a pillow, but he keeps waking up from the bumps that they hit on the road. He doesn’t really mind.

It’s early evening when they arrive at the rink, and when they step out he feels foreign eyes digging into their eyes when they take their baggage off the bus. Everyone’s been tracking them ever since they won last year, and know the stakes are even higher to win a second time. The building is sleek and new, and doesn't feel like Samwell. It’s too clean, too modern and too sleek.

He hates it.

They go inside and debrief about everything, excruciatingly going over game plans and what to watch out for, especially one the goalie who has blocked more pucks than Chowder. Everyone’s mood is gloomy by the time the meeting is over, Chowder manages to save it by going on a tangent about the goalie. 

The air is still and tense in the changing rooms, Devy looks nervous, rubbing his fingers together and tapping his hockey stick against the ground. Whiskey sits next to him, and Dex can see the nerves in his face start to settle, beginning to calm down as Whiskey laughs at a joke that Devy says.

They’re rushed out onto the ice, with Dex and Nursey left on the bench first, a decision that everyone agreed on. Bully and Hops are first on defence, while Devy and Whiskey are on attack. Dex keeps looking at the attacking pair, and they seem to work together like magic. 

They shoot.

The goalie blocks it.

Everything is on edge, with the goalies from both teams blocking every single shot that comes through. Dex grits his teeth each time, waiting for the moment when the defence breaks. Next to him Nursey fiddles with the tape on his hockey stick, adjusting his skates for a third time in a row.

Everyone is stressed.

They’re put onto the ice in the last few minutes, going over boards and quickly skating to skate back to the goals. The enemy team is slowly gaining ground, no one has scored yet. Dex feels every sense in his body heightened, his blood rushing to his veins to the sweat on his back. The chanting of the crowd. Nursey next to him.

Everything locks into place as he steals the puck from the enemy team, quickly skating behind him and passing it to Nursey. They skate parallel to each other, even though they’re five metres apart. The puck passes it back to him and he quickly catches the sight of Whiskey, passing it with more force and speed.

Whiskey catches it. And it all leads to this one moment, ten seconds left. Dex feels his heart in his ears and exhaustion finally catching up to him. The crowd goes into a still, the air is still that if Dex drops a pin, everyone could hear it.

The goalie messes up at the last minute and they by one point.

Even though it isn’t the finals, it still feels like it. Everyone else on his team is laughing and cherishing yet another win under their belt, Dex however is too exhausted. He uses his hockey stick to support himself as he takes off his helmet and lets it hit the ice. He heaves for oxygen, already seeing spots in his vision as he stares at the ground to steady himself.. Nursey skates towards him, with Chowder tailing behind him.

“Hey,” Nursey asks, taking off his helmet and letting it hang from his fingers “you okay? You look like shit.”

Dex looks up. He pulls him into what he feels like is one of the most important hugs in his life. Dex drops his hockey stick, wrapping his arms around Nursey’s waist and letting all of his weight into him. They almost tumble back and Nursey has to steady them.

“You right?” Nursey hums.

“I”m so fucking exhausted,” Dex whispers. Nursey just chuckles.

They quickly change and get out of the building to avoid stares from the campus and drive off to the nearby hotel that they’re staying at. Everyone else seems to be in high spirits, with everyone ushering into a nearby bar to drink for their celebration. However, Chowder, Nursey and Dex are too exhausted to even drink.

They decide to pile onto Nursey and Dex’s room that they’re sharing and facetime Farmer, they laugh and Dex randomly comes out to Farmer out of the blue as bi because he’s riding the euphoria of this happiness. She makes a joke about a double date and Dex groans and lays back on the bed, staring at the ceiling and sighing. There’s a faint smile on his face, and Nursey sees it when he touches his sweaty, gross hair. 

He touches him softly like he’s something important.

“Ugh you guys are gross,” Chowder groans when he looks at the both of them, “I’m leaving.”

“Chowder don’t go,” Nursey whines.

“I need to take a shower,” Chowder steps off from the bed, “say goodbye to Farmer.”

“Tell Chowder to follow up on that double date,” Nursey says when he stands up to get something from his bag.

“She says yes,” Chowder says, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and smiles at them, “use protection fuckers.”

Dex throws a shoe at him when he leaves.

There’s this comfortable silence that they share, just the sound of clothes being taken off and the shuffling of feet. When Nursey steps into the shower, Dex can hear the faint sound of water rushing and the humming that comes from Nursey when he showers. It takes a while for his mind to catch up, these last few hours feels like it’s all been condensed into a single second.

But no more big thoughts for tonight, he’s too tired to think about future games and what to do next. The hotel that they’re staying at is one of the more fancier ones, with clean towels and fancy wallpaper and beds, along with a fridge and a TV too. The lamp however, looks like it belongs to an antique shop.

He showers after Nursey and lets the water rush through him, trailing along his back and leg, the steam and warmth from before still lingering. The water pressure feels nice against his skin, and he takes his time washing himself. He uses the shampoo and body wash that the hotel gives them, it smells like eucalyptus and vanilla, similar to one of Nursey’s perfume. 

Dex steps out of the shower like he’s wearing a new skin, staring at the mirror with droplets on his face and ginger hair. He takes in how his hair is much longer, or how his eyes seem to be brighter now. He even lets some of his facial hair grow out, his chin now popping up with some hair.

He dries himself and changes into a comfortable set of sweatpants and hoodie, steam rushes out of the bathroom when he steps out, his hair is still wet. The lights are off except for a lamp, the whole room bathing in it’s dim, soft light. He turns to see Nursey scrolling through his phone, sitting cross-legged, eating pizza out of the box that somehow materialized out of nowhere. He looks cuddleable, wearing Dex’s hoodie and a pair of boxers. 

“Oh,” Nursey looks up from his phone, a smile on his face, “i ordered pizza for dinner, want some?”

Dex shrugs, deciding that he can ditch his meal plan today as he settles against Nursery and watches a random rom-com on the screen. They go under the covers, with Dex sitting behind Nursey, wrapping himself around him, resting his chin on top of Nursey’s head. They make a mess on the bed and Nursey throws the pizza box on the floo and Dex groans when the girl runs in the rain with the music swelling up. Everything that they’re doing here feels so simple, yet so domestic.

Dex would feel content spending the rest of his life here, in a bed that feels like a cloud with his stomach full, all warm and cozy with a rom-com on. 

When the movie ends and the evening news starts up, Nursey throws the blanket off them and turns around to face him, he accidentally steps on Dex’s foot and he winces.

“Shit, sorry,” Nursey says, he settles himself on Dex’s lap.

“It’s fine,” Dex says. Nursey’s hands comes to touch his damp hair, then traces his jawline with a ghostly touch that sends shivers down his spine. Dex starts to feel his cheeks grow hot.

“I just realised we haven’t kissed in a while,” Nursey says, laughing a little, Dex thinks it fits him.

“Yeah? Why don’t I fix that?” Dex says. He feels silly, saying these cliche romances like in a movie. But god dammit he’s in love, let him be. He closes the gap between them and they kiss, it’s different from before. There’s this fervor and heat behind it all, rushing like adrenaline as Nursey slips his hand underneath Dex’s hoodie, making him gasp.

“Fuck you,” Dex jokes.

“Gladly,” Nursey says.

They stare at each other for a moment.

Then the romantic-ish mood shatters as they burst into laughter, with Nursey letting his head rest on the wall above Dex’s shoulder, meanwhile Dex is heaving for air. 

“Goddamnit,” he pauses, “you motherucker,” takes a breath,”we were doing—” a breath, “—something and you had to ruin it.”

“I mean, the mood can still be revived,” Nursey says, he sits up on his lip and there’s a lazy smile on his face. Dex uses this moment to take it all in, with the myriad of colours that comes from the tv mixing in with the old yellow glow of the lamp, tuning his skin into a shade of soft sepia, shadows carving out his face like a statue, deepening his jawline, softening his eyebags, turning his eyes into forest green. Never in his life would he thought he would be him, under Nursey, staring into other’s eyes.

Dex swallows against his throat and he meets Nursey’s eyes, “oh.”

“Like, we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. Like, we could make out or do something  _ else _ .”

_ Oh. _

They never really talked about things like sex and such, and right now the thought of it now terrifies Dex to the core. It seems like a thing so far away, something that’s foreign and he’s not quite ready to step into that. Maybe he can in a few years or so, but right now it’s a daunting thing to venture into, considering he’s still sorting a lot of things out.

“I don’t… want to have sex,” Dex practically forces the words out of his throat, he takes a shaky breath before he continues, “not yet. I-I don’t think I’m ready for that sort of thing. I just...can’t.”

“Okay, that’s fine.”

“I thought that like...you would hate me.”

“Jesus no!” Nursey shakes his head, “I don’t want to force anything that you’re not ready for. I don’t think I’m even ready for that sort of thing, and I’m leaning. This—all of  _ this _ —is new to me too. Fuck, I mean all I did before this is casual hookups and now I’m your boyfriend.”

Nursey pauses, finding Dex’s hands and clasping them together. He rests the both of them on top of Dex’s chest, “it’s kind of terrifying, actually,” Nursey continues, biting his lip while he stares at their hands, “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“I don’t either,” Dex whispers, “look at me.”

Nursey does.

“We’re not gonna fuck this up,” Dex says, “because we’re in this together, the two of us, alright? So you’re fucking stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

He gets a chuckle from Nursey.

“So, let me lead this time,” Dex whispers, “okay?”

Nursey hums, he rests his forehead on Dex’s. Dex kisses him again and it’s not like fire against his skin or the same fervor as before, it’s gentle and softer now, like pressing secrets through the language of kisses. He rests his hand just above Nursey’s hips and lets his thumb scrape across his skin.

Nursey smiles into it, and Dex tenderly bites down on his lower lip as he lets his thoughts wander while he adjusts himself so he won’t die under a heavy defensemen. He thinks about love, feelings. If he was the Dex back at Maine he would’ve let it die six feet under. But he’s not that anymore, he’s learning, he’s getting better. He’s still stubborn and harsh, sort of like a cliffside, with pointy rocks and steep hills.

And somehow, Nursey, out of all the people took the time and effort to make a home out of him. He let the tides carve itself into him, took the seeds from the farthest forest and planted itself into the earth. He took his time to cool down the magma that crackled and burned, and in turn Dex did the same. They took a little bit of each other and put them in their hearts. Dex into Nursey’s. Nursey into Dex’s.

He thinks, this is the love that’s described in movies or in the stanzas of poems, and even the type of love that lovers say. It’s about finding each other in every single lifetime, meeting each other again and again in every universe and in every night. And after they die and turn into nothing but bones and a memory of the past, they find each other again, like two souls coming back home again.

And it might be true, since Nursey’s poetic bullshit is rubbing off on him now. Dex smiles, while Nursey pulls away for a moment.

“What are you thinking about?” Nursey asks, his breath hot against his cheek.

“How fucking heavy you are,” Dex says, and he pulls Nursey closer to him that nothing might ever fit between them.

===

Dex’s body clock always wakes himself up at six am, he sits up from his bed and sees Nursey sleeping next to him, still and soft, quietly snoring. He still has a hand around his Dex’s waist and it takes everything in him to not curl up next to him and kiss the hickeys on his neck. Instead he stares around the room, the early morning light already seeping through the curtains and dimly lighting up at the room.

It also gives him time to think about last night.

It was good, even though they didn’t go any further than kissing, it was much more intimate before. Like they learned something new about their bodies or the nature of the both of them. Dex finds it strange that he’s thinking about  _ them  _ in the first thing in the morning, and it’s not muddled with thoughts of the daunting future and their last few games of Hockey.

Next to him Nursey stirs awake, sitting up and leaning against his shoulder.

“Morning,” Nursey groggily whispers.

“Morning to you too.”

“What time do we have to leave?”

“Eight, it’s six.”

“Good,” Nursey hums, “stay with me for five more minutes before you get ready.”

Dex nods, pulling the blankets over them again as Nursey rambles about his philosophy class again.


	18. thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update! came down with a cold but im fine now! 
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated <3

Finals are quickly piling in along with hockey practises.

Dex is a large ball of tensiion, and Nursey somehow finds his way and comes to him when he gets frustrated over another code in the library he can pull him out of his head for a moment or two until he’s settled down.into a sort of calm. Nursey stresses quietly, through grumbling and tapping his pen on the paper. To help him calm down, Dex will just come to sit next to him and it just… works.

Nursey likes his presence.

But Dex is noticing something else.

He might get drafted into the NHL.

It’s something that he’s recently noticed when his name pops up on the board or on the news, alongside Nursey. The thing is though, he’s not that  _ good _ . Nursey is miles better than him (“No fucking way,” Nursey says). And all his future plans were already going off track. He takes Nursey’s name and he fits like a missing puzzle piece. But the whole ‘ _ you might get drafted, even if a sub is inevitable’  _ thing sits like an unknown variable he hasn’t quite figured out yet.

He stresses so much that Nursey bullies him into picking less shifts at Annie’s. 

But it’s a thing that clouds over his mind that he actually has  _ two  _ options in fact. It’s a weird feeling to have freedom to do what he  _ wants _ , it feels too loose and there’s too much space for him. With everything coming to realisation that this is his last year at Samwell, and when he graduated he won’t wake up to Tango’s groaning or Devy laughing with Whiskey in the kitchen while Denice smiles.

Dex sighs and leans against the chair, it’s already late into the night and the library is starting to drive him insane. He closes his laptop and rubs at his eye with the heel of his palm.

“Dex, you okay?” Nursey says next to him, it’s a routine that they do know, studying together, with Dex asking Nursey to correct his essays while Nursey goes to Dex for his statistics because according to him:  _ ‘Why didn’t anyone tell me that there’s statistics in psychology?’ _

“Just tired, might call it a day,” he stands up and stretches, “you coming with or staying?”

“Staying,” Nursey takes a sip of his tea, wiping his mouth with the sleeves of his Samwell hoodie. Dex takes all of his things, then hesitating, before he presses a kiss on top of Nursey’s head. He lets the smile on his face settle while he takes all of his things and steps out of the library.

It’s late afternoon and Dex freezes his ass off trying to get back to the Haus so he can collapse on the bed and nap, hoping that by the time he wakes up Nursey will be there on the bed, wrapping his arms around him. He fiddles trying to get the keys out of his pockets and when the door opens he meets the warm hum of the heater.

The Haus is quiet.

No one is here.

Dex thanks whoever forgot to turn off the heater and he goes to raid the kitchen to take a few snacks out. Then he heads up stairs to steal one of Nursey’s hoodies. He notices the light underneath the room that Tango and Whiskey shares, a quiet hum of a random rock song spilling into the hallway.

He knocks on the door.

There’s no answer.

“Whiskey? Tango?” He turns the door handle, finding the door unlocked. The door swings open and he finds Whiskey in the middle of the room, staring at the ceiling with a bottle of tequila in his hands, a pair of shitty earbuds in that spills out most of the music. 

“Hey,” Dex suddenly puts on his captain voice, “you okay?” 

Whiskey blinks, he takes another swig of the tequila and doesn’t seem to care that Dex is in his space. He doesn’t know how to do this, so Dex just lays on the floor next to him, with his hands on his chest as he stares at the tiny spot on the ceiling that he thinks is mold but doesn't really know.

They sit in silence for a second, then:

“I think I’m drunk,” Whiskey says. Dex can smell the scent of rancid smell mixing in with the suffocating deodorant, and it all leads back to his dad, sitting there on his seat as he starts to look more like a robot, staring and staring into the screen.

Dex bites his teeth, “you gonna throw up?”

“No, not yet.”

“Wanna talk about why you’re drunk when you should be studying for your finals?” Dex asks, he turns to face Whiskey. He expects a scowl on his face, anger to flare up in his face to make Dex back away from him. Everything that Whiskey does reminds Dex of himself, and he wants to help him. But they sit upon layers and layers of suffocating silence.

“Have you ever had someone that was just… so fucking  _ good _ , that you’re scared to you’re going to ruin them?” Whiskey says.

“Yeah, all the fucking time,” Dex responds. He thinks of Nursey, and he’s good. Sometimes it feels like he’s too good for him, and he has to remind himself sometimes that Dex is  _ good _ , and he deserves him. 

Another stretch of silence fills between them. He watches Whiskey’s lips twitch, like he wants to say something.but he can’t quite force it out. He bobs his throat and draws a deep breath, before letting a slew of words come out of his mouth.

“I think I’m gay,” Whiskey says, voice shaky “and I’m with Devy.”

“ _ Oh _ ,” Dex says.

He thinks he’s seen the tiny hints here and there, through the way that they practise on the ice or the slightest brush of skin or the way Whiskey is around Devy. He’s like a new person, eyes lighting up, the rare grin on his face that turns into a soft, thin line afterwards. Dex sits up quickly, staring at Whiskey who’s still staring at the ceiling.

He doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m uh… bi,” Dex blurts out, “and I’m with Nursey.”

Whiskey goes tense and still, his lips quivering at the corners. Dex doesn’t know what to do? Did he break him? He watches Whiskey bring his hands to his eyes as he starts to sob, biting down on his hands to stop making noise. Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ . He shifts closer to Whiskey but suddenly he’s sitting up, holding onto Dex with hands while he cries, his whole body shaking underneath him.

He wants to say something to him.

But he can’t find the words.

It takes a few minutes before Whiskey settles himself, prying himself off Dex and wiping the tears from his eyes. He tries to avoid his gaze, but Dex doesn’t want him to. He clears his throat and Dex leans back on his hands.

“I’ve noticed that you were smiling a lot with Devy.”

“Fuck off,” Whiskey says, sniffling.

Dex chuckles, “but he’s good. Right?”

“Yeah,” Whiskey nods, lips already forming into a smile, “he’s good. Like  _ really  _ good. He’s really funny and he’s a dumbass, and sometimes he gets stuck up his own ass alot but I… like him. But it’s hard to let him in, I want him too but I don’t want him to see him any more differently than before.”   
  


“So that’s why you got drunk?”

Whiskey shrugs.

“Kid, for fuck sakes I saw him brewing coffee for you yesterday to bringto your room. He's head over heels over you, he sees you as Whiskey, how stubborn you are and how much you remind you of me.”

He meets his eyes. Dex continues.

“That boy  _ likes  _ you. And it’s going to take a while to convince yourself that this isn’t some dream and to let him in. I take it from personal experience. I'm still learning but I’m uh getting better, I think... Nursey helps, but also just working out and stuff. Drinking doesn’t help me,” Dex finishes, the silence that follows after is overwhelming. Whiskey tries to find the words.

“Feels like I don’t deserve him though,” he says.

“He would choose you over anyone,” Dex says, “I can tell.”

He sees how his eyes lights up in realisation, the fact that people  _ care  _ for him, that  _ love  _ him. That people will support him through the years and will be there for the Samwell and beyond. He doesn’t know Whiskey well, but he knows that he had to pull through the storm to get where he is there, to go through the confusion of his identity and to be comfortable to have someone love him.

“I uh… needed to hear that,” Whiskey says, he gives what looks like a weak smile at Dex. 

“Is Devy not here?”

“He’s talking to one of his teachers, he’s gonna take a while.”   
  


“You know, sometimes wearing one of his things helps. It works for me anyways,” Dex says.

Then:

“You must really need him right now don’t you?”

“So much,” Whiskey says.

“Want me to stay with you while you wait for him?” Dex asks, “I can keep you company.”

Whiskey shrugs. Dex takes it as a yes.

===

He thinks of all things that have to do with Whiskey. He stayed with him for five minutes until he could hear Devy going up the stairs. He quietly walked out of the Haus and here he is now, running to clear his head, needing the slap of cold air against his face. His head can’t wrap it around the fact that he could  _ actually  _ be a successful professional athlete. Dex thinks it’s always been a dream of his, when he was younger he would always watch ice hockey on the screen. 

Sitting on the carpet.

Watching them score as the cheers go staticky because the speaker is shit.

But he can actually make six figures a year and be comfortable for the rest of his life.

He cranks up one of the songs in the playlist which Nursey made for him, pushing himself a bit harder to hope that he doesn’t have to think about the future. When he gets back to the Haus, he’s all gross and sweaty. He takes a shower and lets the water cool his warm skin, using the products that Nursey gave him two weeks ago. He runs the shampoo through his hair and scrubs himself clean.

He wraps the towel around himself and opens the door, his hair still damp. He sees Nursey standing there, wearing simple jeans and a Samwell sweater, a cap on backwards.

“Oh chill,” Nursey says, “I was looking for you.”

“Why?” He starts to make his way down to his room, Nursey follows him down the stairs.

“You free tonight?”

He clears the mental schedule that he made himself, he can do his homework later. Nursey is more important, “yeah.”

“I was uh… wondering if you wanted to hang?” He hears Nursey say behind him, he turns around. It’s something that Dex has picked up on, Nursey is always the one that always seems to be calm, like nothing ever surprises him. But he knows that he goes all bashful and awkward and Dex teases him about it while Nursey just tells him to go fuck himself.

Nursey scratches the back of his neck, clearing his throat.

“Okay.”

“With like Chowder and Farmer.”

“Okay.”

“You sure?” 

“I don’t mind,” Dex gives him a smile, “but I do have to like, get changed and stuff.”

“Right.”

“Yup.”

They stand awkwardly in the hallway. Tango walks in.

“Oh, hey guys.”

Dex takes as an opportunity to sneak away into his room, he can hear the faint sound of Nursey’s laughter trickling into his room. He dries himself and takes random pieces from his closet. Jeans. A hoodie. A red flannel. Vans. He stares at the tiny picture of the two of them, stuck above his desk with the rest of random papers and a calendar. It’s an older photo of them, one when Dex stayed with Nursey at New York.

He can still smell cold air and snow, mixing in with earl grey tea..

He leaves his room and goes up the stairs to see Nursey talking to Denice, sitting on the counter as he lets out a laugh that fills up the entire kitchen. His joy seems to bounce around the kitchen, blurting out another joke that makes Denice burst into a giggle before locking eyes with him, she says something that he can’t quite hear and Nursey turns around.

“Hey,” Dex says.

“Hi,” he hops off the counter, fitting next to Dex like a puzzle piece. Dex pulls him in and gives him a kiss on the temple.

“You guys are gross.”   
  


“Yeah, yeah,” Dex hums as they walk outside. Twilight creeps into the sky and the sun already gone, there’s a haze of pink and purple against the clouds. Next to him Nursey takes a photo of the sky, probably to post on his instagram story. It’s a habit that Dex somehow does now because of Nursey. 

They non-verbally decide to take Dex’s truck as they start to drive onto the road. 

“Where are we going?” Dex fixes the rearview mirror, before touching the air-freshener that smells like Nursey’s perfume.

“At the arcade, or we’re getting dinner,” Nursey says, he scrolls through his phone, “they haven’t decided yet.”

Dex takes the corner and Nursey hushers him to stop, he turns to look at Chowder and Farmer running out of the house, laughing and giddy. Nursey scoots over to make room for them as they pile on, the both of them panting, two of them sweats and hoodies. He thinks he sees a hickey on Chowder’s neck, though he doesn’t say anything. 

“Okay,” Dex says, he drums his fingers against the steering wheel, “what do you guys want to do?”

It takes five minutes of arguing while Dex just drives around the neighbourhood, stopping at red lights and speeding at yellows when Nursey yells at him to drive through it. And all of four of them giddy and laughing themselves silly feels like something Dex should’ve felt in his teenage years, yet here it is now. Maybe, this can be a part of his future. Maybe, he can fit more people into his future.

  
But there’s the NFL…

They do decide to get Taco Bell drive thru and they sit in the parking lot, mucking around while Farmer whines about her classes while Nursey chimes in with her. They seem to have some strange bubble of connection that neither Chowder or Dex can see. But he likes to see him smile, brown skin dew with a hint of yellow hue under the lights on in the car.

Nursey catches him staring.

Dex looks away and takes a bite of his taco, lettuce falling into his lap. He brushes it away on the floor, he can clean his truck later.

They decide to drive to the arcade after a few minutes of complaining about the cold meat in the tacos, somehow it’s still open. They all hop out of the car and the freezing wind makes Dex shiver, Nursey behind him sighs. 

“You okay?” Nursey asks.

“Fuckin’ freezing,” Dex hums, he takes Nursey’s hands into his, remembering that this is normal, that he can hold his hands in public, “your hands are warm.”

“I have hand warmers,” Nursey says, “want some?”

“Nah, I like your hands better.”

Farmer bumps into them, with Chowder tucking himself to her side, “you guys are gross.”

“I said that,” Chowder says.

A part of Dex finds it strange that he’d never been to an arcade when he was younger, now he stares at blaring hues of colour and seeing Chowder laugh so carelessly with Farmer as if they don’t have their last few finals coming up. His teenage years back at Maine were never like this, yet he can now dig his head into Nursey’s neck when he laughs or race to see who can shoot the most goals.

But through the laughter there's a moment where Dex can catch Nursey spacing out, blankly staring at the corners of the room. When Chowder and Farmer move onto the next machine, Dex stands next to Nursey, taking his hands into his.

“You right?” He asks.

“Just… zoning out.”

“You sure?” Dex asks, “you know you can tell me anything.”

Nursey doesn’t say anything, Dex rubs the heel of his palm with his thumb while they stare at Chowder and Farmer at the claw machine. They seem to be trying to get the shark plushie to add to Chowder’s millionth collection of shark related things.

“Can we leave, early,” Nursey says, “not now but like… later. I still want to like kick your ass at the shooting machines.”

“Oh fuck off,” Dex chuckles.

They sneak into the corner of the arcade where all the shooter machines are, Nursey picks the one the zombie shooter one. There’s a sly smile that forms on Nursey that freshmen Dex would absolutely hate but now he adores it, it’s a sign of a competition, a challenge that Dex will gladly take up. Their rivalry is something that has never left them, Dex would rather eat Nursey’s cooking than lose to him.

“You good there babe?” Nursey says, the screen starts to show, “you’re a bit shaky.”

“Could say the same thing to you,” Dex taunts back. He matches Nursey’s smile with his own smile, one that’s reckless and ready to drag him through hell and back. 

“Fuck off.”

Dex jumps at the sudden jump scare on the screen, meanwhile Nursey laughs his head off while he begins to shoot. It takes him a split second to realise that they’re already starting, he curses under his breath as he misses the zombie , having to reload for a second. When he looks he notices that the zombie is gone.

Dex realises Nursey shot it for him, “Oh, thanks.”

“Any time Poindexter,” he grins. Dex likes that grin. He focuses back on the game, with the laughter that erupts from Nursey, dimples showing while he flashes his white teeth smile. Dex swears he could die right now. There’s a lot of shoving and pushing and a lot of whining from Nursey and a lot of swearing from Dex that get’s a lot  dirty looks from a lot of parents. They end up getting a tie because they’re Nursey and Dex and they’re stubborn as hell, and they almost get kicked out when they move onto one last machine.

Dex tells them that they’re leaving early, Chowder says they’ll be fine and will most likely just use an uber.

The cold chill hits them when they step outside, Nursey huddles next to Dex as they walk to the car. Dex immediately turns on the heater and then the light when they get into the car, Dex shivers while Nursey just stares blankly at his hands.

“You okay?”

A beat passes, then, “I could be better.”

There’s the white noise, the heater humming, they’re breaths that come and go, clothes shuffling against the seat. Dex takes Nursey’s hand into his and holds it, “wanna talk about it?” He says as they start to drive back to the Haus.

“I’m just fucking thinking I guess, which is always bad.”

“I thought I was the  _ overthinking  _ one in the relationship,” Dex hums. There’s the haze of headlights mixing in with the sudden soft rain that comes down.

“I don’t know,” Nursey sinks into his chair, “like what if  _ this _ is it? This is… just what we’re gonna be? Feel like I’m gonna fuck this up somehow and I’m gonna like—I don’t know—blame myself or someshit. And like we plan to have a future with each other, right?”

“Yeah,” Dex dead-pans, “because I like you.”

“It sounds daunting.”   
  


“I know.”

They stop at a red light, there’s the blaze of red spilling across the wet road. The radio is buzzing nothing but static, Dex uses his other hand to change the tune. It turns into a talk show, rambling about current foreign affairs. Nursey would probably listen, but right now he’s resting his head against the window.

“I just thought that maybe going out would like stop my head from exploding,” Nursey says, “guess it didn’t.”

The light goes green, Dex suddenly gets an idea, “wanna watch a movie?”

“Yeah, that’ll be great,” he turns to face Dex, he smiles at him with a smile that’s neither sad nor happy, sitting in the middle. Dex smiles back, before Nursey goes to staring out the window and going silent. Dex thinks he’s going good at helping to pick up Nursey when he’s in a mood like this, with simple but gentle touches guiding him to watch something else.

Which is what they’re doing right now.

They pile into the living, noticing that everyone is either asleep or gone somewhere. The Haus is quiet, dark, a tinge of twilight hues settling into everything..He takes a couple of blankets and pillows from Nursey’s room and comes back with it, while brewing a cup of tea for the both of them. They wrap themselves in warmth and comfort on the floor, turning on the TV while Nursey leans against Dex.

“Pacific rim?” Dex asks.

“I was thinking romance,” Nursey takes a sip, “ _ The Half of It _ ?”

“Sure.”

  
Flicking through the apps gives him a moment to think, and he  _ should  _ tell Nursey about his feelings. That’s what they’ve been working on, fucking feelings. He’s nervous about his whole plan that he had when he was younger suddenly shifting and changing right now, Nursey would probably say something about finding comfort in the known.

“You okay?” Nursey pulls him out of his thoughts.   
  
“Huh?”   
  


“You’ve been on the homescreen forever.”

“Oh,” Dex goes to flick through the movies, he picks the right one and lets it play.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Thought it was about you tonight.”

“It can be the both of us.”   
  


Dex stares at the opening scenes unfolding in front of him, a theory about how soulmates are just one soul split into two. He sighs, “I think I have a chance of getting signed to a team,” Dex says it so casually that it scares himself, the possibility of earning more than he could imagine with something that he  _ loves  _ doing. It sounds like a fever dream. Something that was out of touch for him.

“I’ve heard, seen your name pop up here and there. That’ll be sick, you playing..”

“It’s terrifying to me,” Dex says, “I had this whole fucking plan that started when I was nine, and now that shit is changing it just… throws me off. I  _ planned  _ my life this specific way but this is too… scary.”

“Is it because you find comfort and familiarity when you were younger even though your younger years were worse?”

The movie starts to open up more, and here comes the girl clutching onto her books accidentally bumping into the love interest, “ugh, stop psychoanalyzing me, you’re like worse than Devy.”

Nursey chuckles, taking another sip of his tea. He looks at him, with different colours that’s coming from the screen touching his skin, lips in a thin line. Dex moves closer to him, wrapping his arm around him and pressing a kiss on his shoulder.

“Sorry, sorry,” he hums, he wraps his hands around the cup and sighs, “no more thinking for the night, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

And even though he should do some of his homework he doesn’t mind this, being all warm under the blankets, watching a movie in the dark while laughing at the scenes and stealing kisses like all couples do. This simple and domestic thing makes Dex fall in love with Nursey a little bit more every time, he thinks he’ll never get over him. He sighs, no more thinking, that's what Nursey said. He can save it for the stressful times like the future final games and the exams. 

Dex lets himself relax, not really caring that they might wake up like this tomorrow and find Whiskey and Devy taking a photo and filing them, with Chowder laughing his head off. Maybe he can ask them for the photo later, where he can keep it in his wallet or stick it on the fridge of their apartment that they get.

**Author's Note:**

> have any questions or wanna chat about ice hockey gays (please i think the check please fandom is d e a d) hmu on [my tumblr](https://blepbean.tumblr.com/)


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